


Fire and Ice

by SatinSatire



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Drama, F/M, Gen, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-17
Updated: 2012-12-22
Packaged: 2017-11-14 10:32:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 43,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/514297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SatinSatire/pseuds/SatinSatire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sequel to It's a Start. A collection of short stories that will show how friendship and a romantic relationship develops between Iron Man and Black Widow. Each chapter can generally stand on its own, but if you read from start to finish it will all flow together. Reposted with some minor tweaks from ff.net.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Did you seriously just call me Russian Red?

_Some say the world will end in fire,_   
_Some say in ice._   
_From what I've tasted of desire_   
_I hold with those who favor fire._   
_But if it had to perish twice,_   
_I think I know enough of hate_   
_To say that for destruction ice_   
_Is also great_   
_And would suffice._

\- Fire and Ice, by Robert Frost

* * *

It had been 2 months since Tony had kissed Natasha – and she _had_ kissed him back. Not that you would know it by how she acted around him. At first, she had ignored him and then she had disappeared. True, it was on assignments for S.H.I.E.L.D. but it irked him that she acted as if the kiss had never happened.

He enjoyed when people admired him, he found it amusing when people hated him, but the one thing he couldn't stand? Indifference. _That_ was unacceptable.

Tony sat in his lab at home, wondering what to do about that, but as it turned out, she came to him.

"Agent Romanova is approaching," Jarvis alerted him.

"Oh, is she? This should be good." He moved his feet off the desk and headed upstairs to answer the door. "I knew you couldn't resist me," he said after opening the door. "What, no black leather catsuit?"

Her expression was neutral, but at the last question her eyes narrowed slightly. "This isn't a social visit but no, I didn't see the purpose in attracting unwanted attention," she answered pointedly, stepping inside.

"Why else are you here, then?" He moved away from the door, gesturing for her to come further inside and to the living room.

"To talk to you about a possible Avengers assignment." She entered the house and was silent for a long moment. "I am your… liaison with S.H.I.E.L.D. now, since Agent Coulson's… since he is no longer with us." She looked at him, her expression briefly showing sorrow.

His smile faded at the reminder of their failure. And it was their failure. They should have done something to prevent Coulson's death, should have contained Loki better, should not have allowed themselves to be ambushed… should have, should have. Some heroes.

"Have a drink with me."

Her brow creased, a subtle indication of irritation. "I told you that I'm not here for a social—"

"In memory of a friend," he added. "Have a drink with me in his memory."

She fell silent, again showing that faint expression of sadness. It vanished in a moment and she nodded, going to sit on the couch. "All right."

"What's your poison?" he asked as he headed over to his bar. She merely arched an eyebrow and he laughed at himself. "Right, Russian Red. Vodka."

"Did you seriously just call me Russian Red?" she asked, aghast.

He flashed her another grin as he made their drinks. "What? It suits you."

"Ha ha," she replied, trying not to feel charmed by his teasing expression.

Tony came back and handed her the small glass of vodka, having poured some scotch for himself. He sat down beside her. "To Coulson," he said, clinking his glass against hers and knocking back his drink. It burned in a good way and he released a breath.

Natasha drank hers in one long swallow and set the empty glass on the coffee table.

He was silent for a beat and then ground out, "He was such an _idiot_. What was he thinking, taking on Loki like that?"

She stared at him, surprised by the pain and anger in his voice. "He was an agent, Tony. He was doing his duty but more than that, he was brave. Not… everyone can be saved," she said gently. She was going to say that not everyone gets a happy ending, but it was too depressing and cruel to utter that aloud.

"It was a waste… of a good man."

"I know."

He scrubbed his hand over his face and gave her a rueful look. "I guess you're probably used to it, huh?"

"In this type of job, it's always a risk," she agreed quietly.

"Why you? Why get into this? You're gorgeous – you really could model."

She smiled slightly. Usually she would have cut off any sort of personal talk, but maybe it was because the question showed interest in her as a person, not just her body… maybe it was because he was still genuinely upset about Coulson's death and she had an urge to comfort him.

Or maybe it was because she hadn't stopped thinking about that kiss, and when it was just the two of them alone together her steely control could crack and she might allow herself to dream of what might be between them. That was why she'd deliberately made it impossible for them to be alone, until Fury had assigned her back to him.

Natasha was too professional to protest and had told herself she would not allow her feelings to get in the way of completing her work.

"The choice was made a long time ago. Not by me, but I've dealt with the fallout. This… for better or worse… is what I'm good at. Maybe one day it'll be enough to make up for the things I've done in the past."

Tony looked at her speculatively but she refused to meet his gaze. He slid his finger underneath her chin, careful to avoid her mouth in case she got an idea to bite, and gently lifted it up.

"Hey. Who the fuck cares what you've done in the past? The present is all that matters."

She shied away from him, not wanting comfort or understanding, knowing that she deserved this torment.

He blinked, for the first time seeing the wounded woman beneath her icy armor. But he had never been good at being warm and fuzzy, and despite his interest in her the magic words to make her feel better didn't come to mind.

Instead he reached out to caress her cheek, leaning in to kiss her.

Actions spoke louder than words, didn't they?

Natasha thought about turning away, but in her hesitation his lips covered hers and she immediately began to respond to him. _I should not be doing this again_ , she told herself. They had no future and she wasn't even sure she liked him, for god's sake. But warmth began to spread throughout her body and she relaxed, sliding her hands to his shoulders.

He was more cautious than the first time he had kissed her, and pulled back after a few heated moments. This was a _lot_ slower than he was used to doing things, but she fascinated him and didn't want to run her off again.

He brushed his thumb over her rosy lower lip and she blinked at him, slightly out of breath.

"So, about the upcoming job?" he prompted, moving to sit back casually and put a bit of space between them.

It took her a moment to get her bearings and she flashed him a grateful look before becoming all business. She retained her professional persona even while leaving his home once she had outlined the contents of the files she'd brought with her. He leaned against the doorway to the front door, watching her head out.

"Natasha."

She turned, head tilted inquisitively.

"Have dinner with me tomorrow night."

"Was there a question somewhere in there?" she asked sarcastically, arching an eyebrow at his bossy tone. "No. It's not a good idea for people who work together to get involved with one another."

"I'm not, and nor will I ever, be employed by S.H.I.E.L.D.," he replied dismissively.

"That's just semantics."

"Fine, forget dinner. Come over tomorrow and we'll just have sex."

She scoffed. "Yes, when hell freezes over," she answered, turning back to walk to her car. But not before he saw her lips turn up, showing that she wasn't as put off by the idea as she wanted to appear.

He grinned. "Goodnight, Natasha. Think of me when you're in bed tonight."

She gave him a blank stare, shook her head – in amusement? – and drove away, but hadn't displayed outrage or death threats.

In his opinion, that was progress.


	2. Even half-dead and in this suit, I could still charm the pants off you.

_How had it all gone so wrong?_ Natasha wondered. But she knew – a mole in S.H.I.E.L.D., being given false information, and now she and Tony were cut off from the others. Her radio was dead and Jarvis was having a difficult time finding a signal to send a message to Steve.

A recon mission that was supposed to be easy, in and out, had ended with two detonations. If he hadn't stayed behind to dig her out of the rubble, he could have flown away and never would have been struck by the second blast, which he took full on to protect her.

The Iron Man suit was so heavy that she was unable to drag him more than a few feet away. Her muscles burned in agony and her breath came hard, but superhuman strength was not one of her enhancements.

Wiping at a mixture of sweat and blood across her forehead, she reached with a hand she forced to be steady, and carefully removed his helmet. He was alive but unconscious, and her fear was that he had a concussion. Depending on how long it took for Steve to find them…

She slammed her palm down on the chest of his suit. "Damn it, Stark, you should have left me and saved yourself!" Her anger could disguise her fear, and calling him Stark would keep him at an emotional distance. She could pretend that she didn't care about him, that he was nothing more than an irritating playboy who had just happened to be working with her.

She could pretend that she wasn't afraid he was going to die.

Tony stirred with a groan and groggily opened up dark eyes that squinted at her. "Natasha. Is it really seemly to beat on the man – the _injured_ man – that just saved your life?"

Her relief was so great that she turned away, hoping the darkness and her long curls of hair would hide the expression she did not want him to see.

"You don't have to be so insulting," he continued. "I'd never leave you behind to die. I'm a lot of things but coward isn't one of them." He tried to sit up, realized that that required far more effort than he wanted to put in, and then sagged back against the ground. He sighed, closing his eyes again.

She turned sharply. "No, you can't fall asleep!" She sat back on her heels, bringing his head to her lap to use as a cushion.

"I'm tired."

"I know. But you may have a concussion, so you must stay awake… help is coming soon." She hoped.

"I could try to fly us—"

"And if you lose consciousness again, the fall would kill us both. Especially if you landed on me. How much does that hunk of metal weigh, anyway?"

"With me in it? 425 lbs." Tony opened one eye and then both to peer up at her. "Sure, rain on my parade."

"That's my job," she answered sweetly, with a casualness she did not really feel.

"If I have to stay awake in this godforsaken land, then you need to entertain me."

The bossy tone that set her teeth on edge had returned. But that was a good sign, right?

"I'm sorry, I left my stripper heels at home."

"You own stripper heels?" His excited tone was like a child thrilled with a special gift on Christmas morning from Santa.

"Moving on," she said crisply, avoiding the question.

He grinned and then the grin faded. The glow from the arc reactor in his chest made him see something slick and dark slowly running down her face and neck. "Natasha, you're bleeding." He would have reached up to touch her face but the armor surrounding his hand was heavy and he could not make his body obey him.

"Scalp wounds are always bleeders. I'll be fine."

_Well, at least she'd never be the type of woman to yelp over a broken nail_ , he mused.

"Tell me a story," he said. "But not a boring one that will put me to sleep."

"Are you _always_ so demanding?" she asked, a touch of exasperation seeping into her tone.

"Yes. But fear not, gorgeous. I give as good as I get, and you'll never be unsatisfied."

The comment was so unexpected that her mouth fell open and she stared at him in disbelief. "You almost _died_ and you're still hitting on me?"

"As you said – _almost_ died. Not dead yet and the parts'll still work. I promise." He was about to say more but it was lost in a yawn and he closed his eyes again.

Her teeth dug into her lower lip for a moment. "Tony, don't fall asleep."

He didn't respond and a trickle of fear coursed through her. She leaned down closer to him, resting her fingers lightly against his cheek. "Tony?"

"Thought that'd make you move closer to me. Story."

_I'm going to kill him_ , she said to herself silently. _If we get out of here – I am going to kill him._

She looked away, not realizing that she kept her fingers against his cheek, as she tried to think of what sort of story would keep his interest. After a long moment, she began to speak.

"Once there was a little girl. She was just like any other girl – had a mother and a father that loved her. Her favorite color was pink, she had a stuffed unicorn she adored, and was taking ballet lessons from an early age. She thought that she would grow up and become a ballerina, and one day meet the prince that she was going to marry and live with happily ever after."

Tony opened his eyes. There was something off about her tone. He wasn't as psychologically skilled as she was, but he was observant and hello, a genius. Normally, if told something like that he would find something to mock or make a sarcastic remark. But her tone… it was grave and yet harsh.

"What happened to her?" he asked.

"She was asleep in her bed one night, when she was… oh, five or six years old. She awoke to the sound of men breaking down the front door. Afraid, she went down on the floor and hid under the bed. Her mother was screaming, there were the sounds of a struggle and then loud pops – and everything went quiet for a moment. There was an odd smell in the air and then it got worse, thicker – smoke, fire, everything was burning. That's when she began to scream and scream for her mommy and daddy, who would never be able to help her again, and so they found her."

"Who?"

"Who knows? It doesn't matter. She was taken away, now an orphan mockingly referred to as 'the princess.' She had no living family, no one who wanted to adopt an older child who was too frightened to speak and avoided eye contact, rocking while clutching that unicorn, so they decided to send her to a facility to be trained and programmed. At least perhaps then she would be of some use and they would recover the cost of feeding and clothing her."

"What… happened to her?"

Her lips curved but it wasn't really a smile, it was too hard to be that. "She never became a ballerina, although she was rewarded with ballet classes if she pleased her superiors, but she became exceptionally skilled at retrieving information and killing people. She learned there are no princes and that there are definitely no happy endings for anyone."

Her head tilted and she gazed at him with an aching loneliness she did not even realize she felt.

"Well, who the hell wants a prince?" he asked, trying to lighten the sudden dark mood. "No chick is going to think, hooray! Inbreeding. Princes are overrated, if you ask me. And one isn't needed for a happy ending. Trust me. There are plenty of massage parlors-"

"That is _way_ more information than I wanted to know about you," she cut in, cringing. But it had worked and the darkness had left her eyes. " _Please_ tell me you are joking."

"Tash, you're hurting my feelings. Do you really think I need to pay for it?" He grinned at her, relieved that she seemed herself again.

Tash. It was a more intimate nickname than even Natasha was, and one that really only Clint used. She opened her mouth to tell him to call her Natasha, but then she closed it and half smiled. "No. Not if you don't run that mouth of yours."

He pouted. "I'll have you know, that's part of my charm."

"It's not working."

"I'm not trying. Even half-dead and in this suit, I could still charm the pants off you."

"I'm not wearing pants. It's a bodysuit."

"That's even better. Means I'll get everything off in one go."

"You can't even lift up your hand, so how are you going to get it off?" She actually smirked at him.

"Aha! So what you're saying is that if I wasn't so weakened, I _could_ get it off and you'd allow me."

"What..? No, I didn't say that! You're putting words in my mouth – and don't you _dare_ tell me what else I can put in my mouth!"

"You have a dirty mind, Natasha," he answered primly. "I was going to do no such thing."

"Riiight…" She gave him a sardonic look.

He smirked at her and fell silent for a long while, but it was… oddly comfortable between them. He almost hated to ruin it, but he had to know.

"The little girl in the story you told… that was you, wasn't it?"

Natasha flinched but was spared from answering when Jarvis spoke up.

"Sir? I detect that Captain Rogers is approaching."

She let out a breath of relief. Steve was coming to get them! _Thank goodness._

"Jarvis, I thought I reprogrammed you to call him Captain Underpants."

Natasha frowned, smacking the front of his suit again. "You're horrible. He's a good man." Dimly she began to hear the approach of an aircraft and, releasing his head gently to the ground, stood and walked a short distance away to see if she could signal him by using a flare from her belt.

Tony was briefly content to watch her rear end, but was still troubled by what she had revealed to him.

That conversation was by no means over.


	3. Nothing's going on.

Clint wound his way around people as he entered the medical bay. There was everything from people whining about hangovers – _how professional,_ he thought – to those that had serious injuries.

Despite her small stature, her hair was the only splash of real color among a sea of black and white. He found Natasha standing outside a room at the window. From the inside, the blinds were open, and she was gazing in at a sleeping Tony Stark.

"Tasha?" he asked, and she stiffened, turning around to look at him.

For a moment she looked uncomfortable, and then she gave him a slight smile. "Hey, Clint. How's it going?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

"All right. We came back two days ago, thanks to Steve picking us up. I got some bruises and scratches from debris, but you know me. I heal quickly."

"And Stark?"

"They thought he had a concussion, so I spent the past 48 hours keeping him company and waking him every hour to make sure there were no delayed reactions to the head trauma. Everything seems okay now… they're finally allowing him to get uninterrupted sleep."

He nodded and then looked her over. She was pale, but that was pretty normal. There was bruising along her hairline, scratches on her neck and face, and dark shadows beneath her eyes. "Have _you_ slept?"

"No." She gave him a weak smile and shrugged.

"You should—"

"I'm fine." Natasha brushed away his concern, as she always did.

Clint glanced around, knowing that she wouldn't talk when there was the possibility of someone overhearing. "Roof?" he asked.

She blinked at him, but even exhausted she was sharp. "Yes. You and wanting to be up high…" she teased.

He shrugged and smirked at her. "Better than being low." He headed for the elevator but she gave him a withering stare and took the stairs.

"I told you I was _fine_."

"Who said it was for you?" he complained, but followed her anyway. "When you start to approach my age, you won't want to show off and do things the hard way."

"Oh, please, you're still in your prime and will be for years to come."

He looked pleased and she rolled her eyes playfully.

They reached the rooftop access and she swiped her card, pushing open the door. She was greeted by cool night air and she was thankful for a cold front that had rolled in and reduced the humidity.

Clint and Natasha sat side by side on the edge of the roof, looking down at the agents that were moving about or patrolling below them.

"What's going on with you and Stark?"

"What's going on with you and Bobbi?" she countered.

He grinned. "She's great. It's funny, because we hated each other at first. Well, maybe not _hated_ … just argued a lot. It's funny how that happens, isn't it?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"Bullshit."

She sniffed and gave him a sidelong glance. "It really sucks that I don't have any girlfriends, you know? This is really awkward for me."

"It's not exactly a funhouse ride for me, either, but when you bottle crap up it just ends up exploding."

She was silent for so long, he wasn't sure she was going to respond.

Finally, she shifted and looked up at the night sky. "Nothing is going on. I mean… nothing really."

"Oh, well. That explains everything."

His sarcasm was not lost on her and she smiled faintly. "I like him… maybe a little. But nothing's going to happen. I'm going to bore him, just like every woman – some sooner than others –bores him, and he'll move on to the next piece of ass."

He couldn't deny that was a likely scenario. "Well…."

"And anyway, it's unprofessional," she continued. "We'd still have to work together after anything… happened. Do you think he'd make it easy?"

"No." Tony didn't make it easy _now_.

"So there you go." She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Nothing's going on. I won't do anything to jeopardize my work, because this job is all I have."

"Natasha—"

"It's true."

"I know it's true." He looked at her. "I just wish it wasn't. You're so young, you could still walk away from this and make a life for yourself."

"I tried that, remember? It didn't take them long to find me, to try to drag me back – try to kill me when I refused."

Clint remembered. He felt silent, remembering the first time he'd met the notorious assassin and seductress Natalia Romanova in person.

* * *

_Approximately 10 years ago…_

That damn girl – and she _was_ a girl, still a teenager for Christ's sake – had led Clint on a merry chase across Europe. He hadn't wanted to take on the assignment to begin with, but because she was so stealthy and wily S.H.I.E.L.D. needed someone who would not miss the mark. He had memorized her list of crimes and her file indicated a remorseless, stone-cold killer who would do anything – lie, cheat, steal, screw – to achieve her goals.

He had entered the glamorous Parisian loft apartment cautiously. The window had been left unlatched and he sensed a trap. But he was tired of the chase and wanted to finish this hellish assignment.

Creeping along the second floor without making a sound, she came into sight below on the first floor. Her hair, more dark auburn than dark red, was long and loose – making her look even younger – and she was wrapped in a cozy blanket on the sofa chair. There was a cup of tea on the table beside her, and a book in her dainty hands.

He silently pulled back the bow, notching the arrow. It was a perfect kill shot, would have only taken him moments to fire and kill her.

But he hesitated.

Natasha sensed his presence. She was so used to being alone that whenever anyone was nearby, she immediately was aware of it and became uncomfortable. This must be the agent she'd been screwing with for the past few weeks. It had been somewhat amusing at first, a game, but now she had tired of it.

She was tired of everything, especially herself.

"Just get it over with," she said aloud, turning a page in the book, her English perfect but tinged with a faint Russian accent that she would one day eliminate entirely.

He should have, but though he kept the arrow trained on her head, he spoke up. "Why?"

"Why do it?" she glanced up, genuinely perplexed.

"Why do _you_ do this? You're still a kid…"

"I'm _not_ a child," she said coldly. "Why do I need a reason? Maybe I just like the thrill and the cash."

"Then why bring attention to yourself getting a little orphaned girl out of Europe? Not very smart for a spy."

She stared at him, her green eyes filled with a mixture of fury and panic. " _What did you do to her_?"

That reaction was unexpected. "Nothing. She wasn't the target. You are."

The emotions disappeared quickly. Her gaze went cold and blank again. "You know the answer to your question. I assume your agency has collected quite the dossier on me."

Clint thought back, to the records that alluded to the fact that she had been orphaned as a child and trained from that moment on to be a spy and a killer. "You were trying to save her," he said slowly, astonished.

"Don't make me out to be a saint. I'm far from it. I just didn't want…" _Her to become me._

How could he kill her when she'd never had a chance to be anything different? He felt sick.

"You could leave this life. You could come to America with me. My agency could make new documents for you and see that you were taken care of." The offer came without him really thinking it through, but once the words were out he didn't want to take it back.

Her eyes widened. There was silence between them as she stared, trying to ascertain his sincerity. It could be a trick. She'd made similar offers before and was never honest about them.

His gaze was open and she was able to read him, seeing that the offer had surprised even him but that he would not break his word.

Her expression hardened again. "And what would you expect in exchange for this?" she asked flatly. "No one ever gives anything for free. What sorts of sexual favors do you require?"

Clint stared at the girl, feeling sick at the idea of what she'd had to do in her short life for her to ask that. " _Nothing_. And don't you ever think or bring that up again, because that's…" Disgusting, but he didn't want to make her feel ashamed or think his repulsion was directed at her. It wasn't, it was at those who had abused her. " _Wrong_."

"Very well." Slowly, she put her book aside and stood up, with the blanket still wrapped around her small body. "I am Natalia Alianovna Romanova. You are…?"

"Agent Clint Barton. You'll understand if I we don't shake hands. I don't quite trust you." He tossed down a pair of reinforced S.H.I.E.L.D. handcuffs. "Put those on. I'll have to take you into custody and go through red tape, but we'll get it worked out."

She smiled mockingly. "Handcuffs? I thought you said no sexual favors."

"And I thought I said never bring that up again. Don't make me regret not shooting you, Natalia."

"You have my word you will not," she said gravely, snapping each cuff around her slim wrists.

* * *

"Clint? Hellooo? You've zoned out."

He blinked, snapped back into the present. He'd kept his promise, as had she. And she had finally been able to repay that debt.

"I want you to be happy, Tasha."

She blinked. "Well, yeah, that'd be nice but I'm not holding my breath." She glanced at him. "Don't worry so much about me. I'm tough. I kicked your ass, remember?"

"That doesn't count. I wasn't in my right mind." He frowned at her and she smiled innocently.

Natasha looked away. "You're my only real friend, you know?"

Clint put his arm around her, saying nothing.

He knew.


	4. I'd feel a lot better if you put on a sexy nurse outfit and came over here.

Tony slowly regained awareness to the soft feeling of a hand over his. He brushed his thumb over the back of that small hand. "See, Tash, I knew you cared."

A woman cleared her throat, and repeated in a voice that was distinctly unlike the ex Russian spy's, "Tash?"

He opened his eyes, and a woman with red hair came into focus. But she was too tall and the hair was too light. "Pepper." He grinned at her sheepishly. "Oops."

"I'll say." Her tone was dry, and she withdrew her hand.

"Sorry."

"It's all right." She smiled at him, her concern evident. "I'm just glad you're awake and… yourself."

"Never better," he assured her. "Aside from the horror and humiliation of being in a hospital gown."

Pepper laughed. "Well, be more careful next time, okay? I was sick with worry when Fury called." She would never get used to the sense of dread she felt when her phone rang with the caller ID reading "Unknown" and a series of zeroes.

"I'm sorry." Tony looked at her sincerely. "I'll try." He couldn't tell her that he'd risk himself again and again if it meant it would protect Natasha from a something that would almost certainly have killed her. He loved Pepper. Maybe he wasn't in love with her, as he thought he had been – but he still cared deeply about her and it wasn't his intention to upset her.

"I've got to go back to work. I just came by to see for myself that you really were okay. Happy and I brought you these." She pointed to a colorful arrangement of flowers by the window. "Get well soon, all right?" She kissed his cheek.

"Yes." He stretched slightly and then his eyes fell shut. A minute later he heard someone enter again. "Forget something, Pepper?" he asked without opening his eyes.

"I'm not Pepper." The voice was low, with an undercurrent of raw sensuality, and a hint of amusement.

_Fuck me, twice in one day?_ he wondered, his eyes snapping open.

Natasha stood a short distance away, looking tired but – as he had picked up from her tone – slightly amused.

"You feeling okay?" she asked.

"I'd feel a lot better if you put on a sexy nurse outfit and came over here."

"Well, I would but the last time I wore mine it ended up getting all torn up with the… activity."

He stared at her. "Are you serious?"

She tilted her head and smiled angelically. "I don't know. Am I?"

There was silence.

Natasha lowered her gaze to the area on the sheet over him that was suspiciously rising, and quirked up one brow.

"That's your fault," he accused.

"No, it isn't. You brought it up first." She bit her lip to keep from laughing as he yanked the rather paltry flat pillow beneath his head and haughtily put it over his lap.

She couldn't hold back the laughter any longer and it came out, warm and rich.

Tony stared at her, thinking how he had never seen her smile so widely or laugh so openly. When she was reserved and distant, she was still seductive but the way she looked now? Irresistible.

"Thank you," she said after a moment.

"Thank you? For what – for looking like a high school idiot?"

She smiled. "No. For saving my life. If you hadn't gotten in the way of that blast… at best I'd have third degree burns over my body. At worst I would be dead."

He waved away her gratitude. "You'd have done the same for me."

"And any of the others," she was quick to add.

"They're not as handsome as I am."

"Steve is."

"What? Him? You have got to be kidding. I guess if you're into GI Joes… I thought you were a woman of discerning taste, Natasha."

"He saved our lives and you insult him," she scolded.

He laughed. "Well, yeah."

Natasha shook her head at him. "You are hopeless."

"Not at all. For the first time, in a long time, I'm hope _ful_."

She looked at him, wondering what he meant by that. But she did not ask. "Anyway… I just came to check on you before I left. Going on another assignment tomorrow."

"What, so soon? Your bruises haven't even faded yet."

"They will. And yes. My work is never done." She gave him a smile. "See you around, Stark."

She was doing it again, putting emotional distance between them. He had come to recognize that she refused to call him by his first name when she thought they were getting too close for her comfort.

"Tash?"

She stopped in the doorway and turned to look at him.

"I'm sorry for that scared little girl under the bed that no one saved. I'm sorry that she was left alone in the world. I do know what that's like. But, I was thinking and I… I imagine that she grew up to be incredibly strong and resilient. The kind that doesn't _need_ anyone, but that hopefully, maybe one day she sees that it's okay to ask for help and that not everyone is going to or wants to hurt her. That despite the crazy inappropriate things an incredibly handsome and sexy genius might say… he really does want to be her friend."

Natasha stared at him, stunned.

He smiled at her and then the smile widened into a grin. "Friends with benefits, huh?"

There it was, the Tony she knew. Her eyes narrowed and she let out a little huff.

"I told you. When hell freezes over."

"You just wait, I'll give you a pet Frost Giant in July."

"Good- _bye_ , Tony."

He watched her perfectly round bottom bounce away, smiling to himself. Well, at least she'd called him Tony and not Stark. They may have been inching along at a snail's pace, but they were still moving forward.

* * *

Natasha made her way to her quarters and sat down on the narrow bed, going over his speech in her mind. Slowly he was breaking through each of her defenses and the crazy thing was… she wanted him to do it.

She wouldn't – couldn't – make this easy on him because she needed to know that it was real and not just based on passion and sexual chemistry that would flare and just as quickly die and turn to ash.

There was a knock on her door. The only one that ever came to see her was Clint, so she didn't bother to get up to check. "Come in."

To her surprise, it was not Clint but Steve that hesitantly went inside.

"Is something wrong, Captain?" she asked, figuring the only reason he'd want to see her would be something involving an assignment.

"No, I just… have gotten a little tired of getting caught up on things on the History Channel and trying to understand everything on MSNBC and CNN." Also, even he had eventually tired of demolishing punching bags.

She smiled, feeling sympathy for the soldier who probably felt as out of place as she did. He was endearing, and she felt almost protective of him. "That probably made you more confused than before, hm?"

"It's a lot to take in, still." He rubbed his eyes. "Anyway, I'm tired of being on base but I don't know my way around outside well enough so…" he trailed off. Now that he was actually there in front of her, intimidated by her beauty, he felt as awkward and uncomfortable as the short skinny kid he had once been. Even though he wasn't interested in her, not in that way… but the sting of rejection was all too fresh in his memories.

"I'd be happy to show you around. I had to learn American history, too, and it's quite complicated. I can do my best to try to answer your questions and sort things out for you," she offered.

Natasha couldn't know how hard it had been for him to reach out to someone, or how a small part of him wanted to be around her because she reminded him of Peggy – not in looks, but somewhat in attitude – and that made him feel less lonely.

"I would like that, if you feel up to it. Thank you."

"I'm fine," she assured him. "I too was… modified, so I heal quickly and can sustain a lot of damage."

"It didn't seem to help your height."

She laughed. "No. I've always been small. That's why I have to be fast. Can't kill what you can't catch."

He smiled, relaxing, as he was able to see her as a soldier and ally. "Let's go now?"

Natasha nodded, getting up to take her jacket from the small closet.

It was funny.

She had believed that Clint was her only friend, but maybe she was wrong.

Maybe she, like Tony, could be hopeful.


	5. I think someone just tried to kill you.

_Might as well call it a night,_ Steve thought with a barely stifled yawn. He was satisfied that he was learning to be as effective at shooting targets with the new S.H.I.E.L.D. rifles as he was with the weapons from his past. He made his way back to the armory to return the rifle, but paused when he saw a familiar figure sitting inside, a disassembled gun in front of her on the table.

That wasn't what she was staring at, though. She was staring at a narrow piece of glossy paper in her right hand.

He hung the rifle back in its case. "Natasha? What's wrong?"

Two months ago he never would have felt comfortable enough to ask if she was all right. But in the weeks that had followed, he had developed a friendship with Natasha. On the battlefield, she had become his second-in-command because of her level head, composure, and ability to follow orders without complaining or protesting.

"Nothing's… wrong," she said slowly, looking up at him. "A couple of weeks ago, Stark said he'd been given two tickets to the ballet. He invited me to go. I said no, but he left the ticket with me anyway and said he was going and he hoped to see me there."

He looked at her S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform. "I know a lot of things have changed since my time… but you should _probably_ wear a dress."

Steve said that so sincerely that she had to press her lips together to not let out a laugh. Natasha didn't want to offend him by laughing.

"I'm not going dressed like this. I'm not going at all." She set the ticket down on the table.

"I'm the last person in the world to give you relationship advice, so I won't do that. I'll just tell you that when I thought I was dying, the last thing I thought of before impact was how sorry I was of what could never be with Peggy. I miss her, and I think of all that could have happened. Regret is a terrible thing."

Natasha was quiet, not wanting to add to his pain but not knowing how to ease it, either.

Steve leaned over her, glancing down at the title in fancy cursive script across the ticket. "But do you really think _Stark_ just happens to be interested in seeing The Sleeping Beauty?"

"No," she admitted. Tony had either guessed or just known that she loved Tchaikovsky.

"It's your choice, though." She felt a heavy hand drop on her shoulder affectionately. "Have a good night, Natasha. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Goodnight, Steve." She looked back down at the ticket as she listened to his departing footsteps, and sighed.

* * *

Tony sighed, flipping through the ballet program. He didn't bother to read it again because he had almost memorized it by now. There were only a few minutes left until the lights faded and the curtain opened. Natasha was freakishly punctual and would have already arrived.

He had to admit to himself that she wasn't coming, and he closed his eyes briefly in disappointment, smiling wryly to himself.

Well, at least he had tried.

The lights dimmed and he opened his eyes to gaze at the stage below. He heard footsteps and apologetic murmuring, and then the deeper voice of an usher.

"Here is your seat, miss."

"Thank you," Natasha said, smoothing her hand down her long black dress as she sat beside Tony. She wore diamond jewelry and her dark red curls were up in a tousled twist. "I apologize for being late," she said quietly.

"Well, don't make it a habit. I'm the only one that can do that." His tone was casual to cover up the happiness he felt that she had come after all.

"Different standards for men and women?" she murmured.

"No. Just different standards for me." He smirked at her.

"Oh, of course." She rolled her eyes at him, shook her head in amusement, and turned to focus her attention on the stage as the music began.

Going to the ballet was not something he was interested in, although he had a dim memory of being very young and sitting on his mother's lap with his father beside them, as they watched The Nutcracker one winter before Christmas.

He had done this for her, and when he watched her expression more than he watched the performance, he was certain he had made the right choice.

Natasha's gaze was focused on the dancers and she appeared entranced and happy. Throughout the performance he could read a range of emotions on her face in response to the story, and he realized how wrong people were when they thought of her as empty and cold.

Tony put his hand over hers, figuring he had about a 50/50 chance that she would slap his hand away. She tore her gaze from Princess Aurora's dancing to glance down at their hands, and then gave him a quick smile before looking back at the stage.

After the performance ended and the lights started to come on, he stood up along with everyone else to clap for the dancers.

"So I wonder why this has to take so long that my palms start to go numb," he said to her.

Natasha smirked and was about to make a joke about his palms probably being quite resilient, but the words died in her throat when she saw a small red dot appear for a brief moment on his forehead.

Acting on sheer instinct she tackled him to the floor as a silencer bullet hissed through the air. She grunted softly when a second one hit somewhere near her shoulder blade on her back.

Tony found himself on the floor with the breath knocked out of him, and his face in Natasha's ample cleavage. Normally, this would have been a dream come true but then he heard her let out a small sound of pain.

"Tash!" His voice was muffled but the concern was clear.

"Just a minute." She crawled with him behind their seats and then she took a small black device out from her purse, tossing it out over the balcony toward the ceiling. It exploded in a puff of harmless smoke, but had the desired effect of inciting panic and ruining the clear view of the assassin.

"Natasha, you're bleeding! What the hell just happened?"

She ignored the burning pain in her back, as it was not the first time she had been shot. "I think someone just tried to kill you. The question is, how do we narrow the very long list of possible suspects?"

* * *

On the way out, Natasha took his suit jacket from him to put on and hide the bleeding wound on her back. He wanted to drive her to a hospital but she convinced him that the best place to go was back to the S.H.I.E.L.D. base so she could see a medic.

Tony refused to leave her side and he sat in a chair while Natasha perched on an exam table and a doctor worked on removing the bullet and cleaning the wound.

The doctor had just finished patching her up when Fury walked into the room. He waited until the doctor had left, and then turned to face them.

"What happened?" he asked.

"We were…" she hesitated, not knowing how to explain it. Fortunately, Tony was never at a loss for words.

"We were on our first date – finally, after five, yes, _five_ , F-I-V-E months – seeing a performance of Tchaikovsky's The Sleeping Beauty, when some _fucking_ idiot screwed it _all_ up by trying to put a bullet in my brain. Natasha pushed me down to the floor to get me out of the way and by doing so, the asshole shot her instead."

Fury looked at Natasha, whose face was faintly flushed.

"I saw the red dot sight for a split second, and well… I pushed him down right away. I have no idea who it was. I didn't see anything else. I threw a smoke bomb and when the crowd panicked, it provided us cover and we were able to get away without being shot at again."

"I know this is going to be hard for you, Stark, but keep a low profile until we find the hit man and more importantly, figure out who ordered the hit. You're no use to us dead."

"Thanks for the concern." He rolled his eyes. Although he wasn't particularly worried about his safety, he didn't want those close to him to be in danger. He'd already notified Pepper of the attempt on his life and told her to stay away from him for the time being, and for her to let Happy know to do the same. He wouldn't be able to handle it if either of them were murdered.

"I'll assign some agents to shadow Ms. Potts and Mr. Hogan," Fury said, as if reading his mind. "Just in case."

Tony was silent a moment then he nodded. "Thank you."

"I'm also assigning an agent to shadow _you_ and be your bodyguard."

"What?" He scowled, disliking the idea of having someone in his way. "I don't need that. I'll just stay at home and work from my lab there. It's unnecessary."

Fury shook his head. "You're an integral part of the Avengers and are too valuable to take a risk like that."

"Look, Fury, I've had agents in my personal space before and it's not something I care to repeat. I can handle myself."

"You can't be in the suit all the time. Natasha will be assigned to guard you."

Natasha looked up, startled. "What?" she asked.

"All right," Tony said simultaneously.

Fury looked at Natasha, his expression almost apologetic. "You're the only agent he won't actively try to run off. I don't have a choice, Natasha. We need to keep him – and you – safe while we hunt down those involved in the assassination attempt."

She didn't try to argue. "I understand, sir. What are my orders?"

"To live with him and protect him until we capture or kill his assassin."


	6. You're not wearing green crap on your face, are you?

Although he had agreed to it without any hesitation, the truth was that Tony was a little disconcerted by the idea of living with a woman. He had successfully managed to avoid that for so long, and for a reason.

Tony had horrifying visions of what Natasha might do – have curlers in her hair (although he did think her curly hair was natural), wear one of those goopy green masks on her face, walk around in old sweats without makeup (okay, it would be acceptable if the sweats didn't have holes or anything.. or if they were _his_ sweats), or even worse, leave a box of tampons lying around (there was nothing that could redeem this one).

He didn't think it was fair that his illusion of her as an incredibly sexy woman on a pedestal would be shattered, and he hadn't even had a chance to have sex with her first. He also thought it was a good thing that Natasha was not telepathic, because if she'd known the undercurrent of his thoughts, there _definitely_ would not be any sex in their future.

Okay, so he wasn't _entirely_ serious about his fears, but he knew that they weren't in a good point in their relationship to be springing unsightly surprises upon each other.

The second night she was there, he couldn't sleep so he went downstairs with the intention of heading into his lab. The kitchen light was on and in his mind, he heard a horror movie soundtrack. Reluctantly, he approached the kitchen.

Natasha stood with her back to him, making coffee. Her hair was loose, not a curler in sight, and she was wearing a tank top and silky pajama pants.

"You're not wearing green crap on your face, are you?"

She'd heard him come in, of course, but turned around to stare at him in surprise. "Green… crap?" she repeated blankly.

To his relief, her face was bare.

"Er… nothing. Don't want to sleep?" he asked, gesturing to the coffee. "It's late."

"No. I don't sleep well. Dreams, well…" She gave him a small smile. "Nightmares."

He understood. His nightmares had started after Yinsen's death and hadn't really ever stopped. "Pour me some."

Natasha paused, but complied, knowing she was in trouble when his imperious tone no longer irritated her as much as it had in the beginning. "I'm your bodyguard, not your servant," she reminded him.

"Duh. You're not beneath me. Well, I'd like you to be."

She set down the coffee cup in front of him. "You have absolutely no filter between your brain and mouth, do you?"

"Nope, sure don't." He smiled and took a sip, noticing that she also drank her coffee black. "When did your nightmares start?"

She stared down into her cup. "I don't know. I don't remember a time when they weren't there. Childhood, I guess."

"Mine were after… after this." He tapped the arc reactor in his chest. His shirt was black, so all she could make out was a faint glow through the fabric.

"May I see it?"

"So polite." He chuckled and tugged off his shirt.

Her gaze ran over his chest and then she leaned forward to trace a fingertip delicately around the circle of the arc. "Amazing," she murmured.

His hand covered hers and her gaze jumped to his face.

"Come here," he said.

There was clear longing and desire on her lovely face, but she shook her head. "We can't do this. It's not going to work. You saw what happened last night. We can't even go out on a date without something awful happening."

"And it would be equally catastrophic if we tried to date other people, so why not us?"

"I'm uninterested in romance."

"You're lying. I saw your expression at the end of Sleeping Beauty. You may not think you'll get a happily ever after, but you want to believe they exist."

"Tony—" She stood up, pulling her hand away, and began walking out of the kitchen.

"Natasha, please don't go. I care about you. I like you. You're exciting, mysterious, intelligent… beautiful and sexy as hell. You could strangle me with my shoelaces, and I bet the thought has crossed your mind. But you use your skills to help protect people. You're a good person, a strong person."

"If you only knew the monster I've been, you wouldn't say that."

"People change." He stood up and approached her from behind, sliding his arms around her waist. "I did. I have." Her nuzzled her soft hair, then pressed a kiss on a spot between her neck and shoulder. "Besides, one of my good friends is a big green monster. I don't have a problem with a small redheaded one."

She knew that she should walk away from him. Her mind, coldly detached, went over all the different reasons why she should put more distance between them. Emotional as well as physical.

But he made her feel like a human being, and more than that, he made her feel like a woman instead of killer that was dead inside. Why couldn't she be a warrior _and_ a woman?

Her decision made, knowing that no matter what she was going to face the consequences head on, she turned around.

For the first time, _she_ kissed _him_.

* * *

When Tony came downstairs the next morning, he saw Natasha in the kitchen again. There was a neat little pile of swept up broken ceramic pieces and she was scrubbing at a spot on the floor that was sticky with spilled coffee.

"Sorry about that."

She looked up at him and smiled, rising to go rinse the sponge so she could sweep up the remains of the coffee cups into the dustpan. "Why? I'm not."

There was something soft and sweet about her now, and his protective instincts came out. Normally, he would be happy to brag but he thought that he was going to keep her – and their relationship – to himself.

"Are Pepper and Happy okay?" she asked, dumping the broken pieces of mug into the trashcan.

"Yes." He sighed. "She called to check in a little while ago. She's scared for me… upset."

"The agents will take care of them, Tony."

"You have that much confidence in them?" he asked, sardonically.

She shrugged. "I told them if they failed, they'd deal with me." Her expression hardened and her gaze turned chilly, but then it was gone and she was the woman again, not the warrior.

"Okay, I can see how that look might influence someone to not fuck up," he conceded.

She smirked at him. "It wouldn't work on you."

"Nope, I'm brave." As if to prove it, he asked, "So what are you making for breakfast?"

Tony was spared from more than just an evil glare when Natasha's phone sitting on the counter began to vibrate.

"Hi, Steve," she said, turning her back on Tony. "What's wrong?" She was silent a moment. "I think so. Let me ask." She looked over. "Tony, can we do a video conference? Apparently there's something they need us to see."

"Sure. We just have to go downstairs to the lab."

"He says we can. All right. See you in a few." Natasha hung up. "They're sending you the security info to link up with S.H.I.E.L.D. and… you don't need it because you've already broken past all the security and have complete access," she finished, correctly interpreting his raised eyebrow and smirk.

"It's not like I haven't helped patch up holes in security, but yes, I do have full access. Come on." He headed downstairs with her.

Natasha followed, glancing around while he quickly set up a link between Jarvis and S.H.I.E.L.D. then angled a camera at them. "Smile, Tasha, we're live."

She looked at the section of the computer screen in which Fury and Steve were seated at a conference table.

"It's been a priority to figure out who tried to kill Tony," Fury began. "I've had agents start to put together a list of people that Tony has angered or had problems with in the past, along with their motivations and their current whereabouts."

Steve pointed at a thick file on the table. "We're not even done yet." He looked at the camera. "Can't you _try_ to not make enemies out of people?"

"It's not completely my fault," Tony defended himself. "You try being Howard Stark's son. There were so many failed attempts to kidnap and ransom me when I was a kid. And after he died, people that were pissed at him tried to take it out on me. I wasn't going to live my life in fear or hiding out in a fortress like some demented hermit. And before you make a smart comment – yes, I'm hiding out in my fortress now but not because I'm afraid for my life. It's because I don't want Natasha getting hurt again because of me, and she's safest here."

"She very well might be," Fury agreed. "We received this through one of our secure channels. It's for you, Natasha."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

Steve stood up and angled the camera toward the flat screen television on the wall. The screen was black and then showed an elderly man tied to a chair, his face bloody and beaten.

Tony flinched as it reminded him of his own captivity. Without taking her gaze off the computer, she reached up to put her hand on his shoulder.

"Ivan," she said softly, recognizing the man though she hadn't seen him in over a decade.

A woman's hard voice emerged from the shadows, behind Ivan. "Natalia Romanova, you are a difficult woman to find. Do you think playing at being a superhero erases all the unforgivable things you've done for money? You're still that evil heartless bitch, and you _don't_ deserve any sort of happiness. Especially not after what you took from me. You made me miss hitting your boyfriend, but look who I had waiting in wings."

"Natasha this isn't your fault. I'm so prou—" Ivan began.

"Turn it off," Tony said, in a low deadly tone. Then louder, "Damn it, turn it off before—"

Steve shot to his feet but he was too late. There was a loud bang and then blood and brain covered the screen for a split second before Steve found the correct button and the television screen went black again.

"I'm so sorry, Natasha," he said to her. "We just got it in and hadn't had a chance to review it. If I'd known…"

"Well, you know now, don't you?" Tony snapped, putting his arm around her. She was clearly shocked.

Natasha stared ahead blankly, her breath coming in shallow pants. "The assassination attempt wasn't ever about you. It was about _me_."


	7. This doesn't involve you.

Tony sensed her withdrawing from him, after Fury had instructed her to remain at the Stark mansion until they had identified the woman responsible for Ivan's murder.

"Who was he?"

Natasha glanced at him and blinked as if becoming aware of his presence for the first time since watching that video. For a long moment, she was silent.

"Just… someone that was kind to me, where I was trained and programmed, when I was young. When I got older, we'd talk and… he'd tell me I could make different choices. He treated me like a person, not... not a weapon. He was the first one that ever did. When I left Europe with Clint, I never looked back. Never contacted him, because he was part of that other life, the life I wanted no reminder of." Her voice broke and she looked at him in anguish. "I left an old man to fend for himself and he's dead now because of me."

He slid his hand along her jaw and then tilted her chin so she had to look up at him. "Not because of you. He was probably involved in that program long before you were even born. He made his choices. And you heard him. He knew he was going to die and he still didn't blame you. You are not to blame. That psycho is responsible. And I promise you: she will pay."

She shook her head; it was unclear whether it was in denial of him telling her she was not to blame. "This doesn't involve you."

"It does when she tried to kill me. And according to her, I'm your boyfriend." Despite the gravity of the situation, the idea of that made him smile.

"No. If we publicly break up—"

"She'll see it for what it is, a transparent attempt to deflect attention away from me." He stared at her. "Wait, you just said break up, which means…"

She smiled faintly at him and shrugged, then leaned forward and buried her face against his neck.

His arms immediately wrapped around her, one hand gently smoothing her hair.

Neither said anything and for Natasha, there were no tears.

They had been beaten out of her a long time ago.

* * *

_Red Room Program, Russia... quite some time ago_

Natasha had recently celebrated her 10th birthday. She could not remember her parents, but she thought of them less and less as time went by. She accepted that she was an orphan. For her birthday she had received a blue cut out of a cat on a string that could be hung up. It wasn't a very exciting present but it was better than nothing. She thought that someday, she would like to have a real cat.

There was a soft knock at her door and her gaze jerked to it warily. "Yes?" she asked.

The door opened and she was relieved to see that it was only Ivan. He was always kind to her and when no one was looking, would sometimes slip her a chocolate truffle – her very favorite. Kindnesses were few in this place, though it was constantly pointed out to her by the officials how very lucky she was to have a roof over her head and nice clothes to wear.

No matter that sometimes, those nice clothes were stained with her blood.

"They require your presence, tsarina," he said gently. Others called her princess, too, but somehow she could detect no mocking in his tone. "They wish you to display your skill in front of…"

Natasha felt a trickle of fear creep down her spine, one that she did not allow to show on her face. She had to always be in control of herself and to never reveal her emotions. "Who?"

"No matter. Come along, the faster it is over the better." He beckoned to her, trying not to think of how small she was, how big her eyes were in her face. But to smuggle her out would have been suicide.

She moved off her bed and walked out, resigned. As she walked with Ivan, she glanced at the doors where the other girls had their rooms. Friendships were discouraged, because they were often pitted against each other. She had never had a friend before, and sometimes wondered what that would be like.

But truthfully, she wondered that less and less now. She had become accustomed to being alone and was uncomfortable with most people unless she was pretending to be someone else.

"Ah, the little Romanova. Come here, my dear. Here is your opponent." The official rattled off some information that she didn't bother to listen to. It was easier if she didn't think of her opponent as a person, otherwise she might hesitate and that would cost her dearly.

Her gaze blanked out and she went on auto pilot, moving fast and striking hard as she been taught. The other girl struck her too but though taller she was not as quick or sure of herself. There was a time when she had cried at the idea of hurting another person. But she didn't cry much anymore, because it made her superiors furious to see her display that kind of emotion.

It wasn't easy but she had been able to numb herself by thinking of being swallowed up by snow and ice, and when she had been younger, to pretend she was a princess under a spell that caused her to be like an ice statue. Now, she did not have to do that any more – she was numb more often than not, and had ceased to think about fairy tales.

The match went on until dimly, she could hear Ivan's voice. "Haven't you seen enough? They're only children! Stop this."

"He's right. I do not need to see more," a man's voice spoke up. A newcomer.

Natasha backed off from the bruised girl and spared a glance, but he was in the shadows and she could not make out his features.

"What do you say, Winter Soldier? Are you capable of training her to be a Black Widow?"

* * *

It took a week for them to identify the woman, using a combination of espionage tracing Ivan's last few weeks and a voice recognition software that Tony himself worked on enhancing.

Natasha, never one to take inactivity well, had a difficult time dealing with being cooped up and coping with the guilt she felt over Ivan's death. Tony did his best to keep her distracted and to his pleasant surprise, found a common interest in chess. He'd intentionally cheat and the resulting squabble made her seem like her old self. Other times they'd play card games, and she'd beaten the pants off him at poker.

Literally. He grinned at the memory.

Nights were easier. She'd make dinner, which to his surprise actually tasted good, and with a few occasional detours along the way, they would end up in the master bedroom. Neither said anything to the other after they had sex, but she had begun to stay in his bed throughout the night, though in the morning when he awoke she was always already gone, having disappeared downstairs. It was as though at night she belonged to him but with the coming dawn she'd slip right through his fingers, as elusive as water.

And he loved her for it.

* * *

Natasha stalked through the S.H.I.E.L.D. base with Tony beside her. Steve had said they finally had obtained a name and location for her, and she wanted all the information they had on the woman. The doors hissed open as she walked into the conference room, and stopped short when she saw that it was not only Steve seated there.

Clint lounged back and half-waved at her. She nodded at her friend, her gaze going questioningly to Thor and Bruce.

"What are they doing here?" she asked, feeling the light pressure of Tony's hand on her lower back as he guided her to a seat.

"They heard about what was going on, and wanted to help," Steve explained.

Natasha didn't understand. "But why? This doesn't involve you at all." She sat down, glancing at Tony. "I can understand Tony and Clint, but…"

"You remind me of someone dear to me, and I would not want her to be fighting a battle like this alone," Thor said, sitting near Mjolnir. "More than that, we have fought together. You are a brave warrior maiden. Why would I not fight with you now?"

"I don't know if my unique smashing talents will be required," Bruce said, with a slight smile. "But I do owe you for you know… almost killing you. I am sorry about that, by the way."

She accepted the apology with a nod, but still looked wary. "This… I mean, this is my fault. I don't want to drag all of you into this… because of something I probably deserve due to past actions."

"Who among us has not done foolish and harmful things they regret?" Thor asked.

"The Boy Scout, probably," Tony muttered.

Steve gave him a look. "Would you _quit_ calling me that?"

"Do you prefer Captain Underpants?"

"I would prefer you shut up."

"Boys!" Natasha looked at them both sternly, but had a bizarre urge to laugh. Steve looked contrite. Tony kissed her ear in response.

"Thor has a point," Clint said. "It's you now, but at some point in the future it could be any one of us that'll have someone gunning for them."

"The other guy has a habit of making enemies," Bruce admitted.

"I'm sure a feat only surpassed by Stark," Thor mused.

"What can I say? I like being number one," Tony responded lazily, smirking.

"As you can see, somehow we have become a family," Bruce continued. "A dysfunctional family, to be sure, but nevertheless one. That woman is after one of our own. You're not alone in this. We stand beside you, Natasha. No matter what you've done."

Natasha stared down at the tabletop, overwhelmed by feelings she had thought were long dead. "Thank you," she said quietly.

"Back to business," Tony said briskly, wanting to take attention away from her. He figured she would be uncomfortable with the others witnessing such a display of emotion. "Cut to the chase, Captain. Who's the bitch and how do we get rid of her?"


	8. She knows 20 different ways to kill me in my sleep without leaving the bed.

"Janice Kestrel?" Natasha said blankly.

Steve nodded and passed over the file to her. "She had a brother… Jacob Kestrel. He was assassinated about 12 years ago." He looked as if he were about to say more, but didn't.

"By me," she finished for him.

"Yes."

"I don't remember him. There were so many…"

"Not exactly what you want to hear your girlfriend say," Tony muttered.

"Don't be crass," Thor told him.

Clint raised his eyebrows and looked at Natasha, who gave him a shrug and turned back to the file. She flipped through the documents and finally located photographs of Janice and Jacob.

Clint leaned over to look, being familiar with Natasha's kills from when he had been assigned by S.H.I.E.L.D. to assassinate her. "I remember this case. He was the son of a mobster."

"Right… a rival hired me to kill him to try to break apart the empire." Natasha rubbed her forehead. "He wasn't that much older than me, but was being groomed to succeed his father. I made him fall in love with me and then… I completed what I had been hired to do."

No one made a Black Widow joke, and she was thankful for that.

"Everything fell apart after Jacob's death. His father suffered a fatal heart attack, there was a transition of power that left them vulnerable to attacks from rivals, and lots of people in the family were killed," Steve added.

"So this Janice grew up and somehow found out that you had been hired to kill Jacob. She blames you as the catalyst for everything that happened afterward, and wants to hurt you as much as she thinks you hurt her. Anything else?" Bruce asked.

"Tony was probably the easiest target because he's so public. Clint, you're Natasha's oldest friend." Steve looked over at him.

"I have no routine and constantly move around. I doubt she'll go after me, but you never know. I'll tell Bobbi to keep on high alert."

"She has been quiet all this time," Thor said. "So either she is plotting something or she is waiting to draw you out again."

"I don't want to wait that long. You said you have an address?" Natasha looked at Steve.

"We do. She's staying in LA for the time being. According to reports, she's spending her time shopping and ordering room service."

"I want to try and talk to her."

Tony looked at Natasha in disbelief. "Tash, are you nuts? She killed someone that was nice to you when you were a kid to hurt you, she tried to kill me, and she shot you. I'm not a psychologist but I'm pretty sure she's too far gone to be reasoned with."

"I… know, but…" she trailed off, looking away. How could she explain that she felt responsible for turning Kestrel into a deranged killer?

"We can take her into custody," Steve said, having a sense of her feelings. "But she is clearly a threat to you."

"I know. I understand that. But just let me try. If I fail, we'll bring her in. I just… owe her that much."

* * *

They made a plan, to be implemented that night. Kestrel was staying in a top floor penthouse, which was a logistical nightmare because of all the windows. Clint was the best marksman they had, but even he couldn't shoot from multiple places at once. Steve put in a request to Fury for an additional sniper. Just in case.

A few hours later, there was a knock on his office door and he glanced up. "Come in."

The door opened and in walked a tall, beautiful blonde woman wearing the S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform with a rifle carry case bag slung over one delicate shoulder. "Captain Rogers. Hi. I'm Agent Carter."

_Carter_.

The name hit him with the intensity of an explosion and it took him a moment to regain his bearings and realize that she was holding her hand out to him. Good manners had been ingrained in him at an early age and he shook her hand.

"Pleased to meet you, ma'am."

She smiled at him, not with dark eyes but with sea green, drawling Southern accent not crisp English, and there wasn't anything in her that reminded him of Peggy except that name.

"Director Fury assigned me to be your sniper for tonight," she explained. "I'm ready to move out when you are."

"We'll head out soon. I'll let you know."

She nodded and turned to leave but because he had to know, he stopped her.

"Agent Carter? Are any of your… past family members from England?"

She turned back to him and if she thought it was a foolish question, it didn't show on her friendly face. "Yes. Carters came from England and made a home in Virginia, where I was born."

"Thanks… I know it was a stupid question."

"Not at all." She smiled again. "It's an honor to be working with you, sir. I'll see you soon." She walked out, leaving him alone with his memories.

* * *

That night, Clint and Agent Carter went to the top of their respective buildings to position themselves for kill shots. Steve looked down at Natasha.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Positive. If it falls apart, I trust your command."

Thor walked up behind Natasha and put his arm around her waist.

"Watch the hands!" Tony scowled at him.

Thor gave him a dirty look. "How _else_ am I supposed to fly her up except by touching her?"

"I could do it—"

"What a wonderful idea. I am sure no one would notice the flying robot," Thor said sarcastically.

"Children." Steve looked at them. "Thor is providing cover with dark clouds and thunder. We've been _over_ this."

Bruce dragged Tony away to the van they were using to monitor Natasha. "He knows. He just has trouble letting go."

Tony allowed Bruce to lead him away, looking at Natasha. _Be careful_ , he mouthed to her.

Natasha gave him a reassuring smile and the next thing she knew, she was airborne in Thor's iron grip. Thunder boomed ominously as he zipped straight up and then dropped her on the penthouse balcony. He himself continued up to the roof, where he dropped Mjolnir to wait in case he was further needed.

She landed lightly, knowing they had timed it perfectly so that Kestrel was busy receiving her room service order and was not paying the balcony doors any mind. She easily picked the lock and entered, thunder covering up any slight sound she might have made.

Kestrel turned around, her heart in throat when she saw the woman she'd hated ever since she found out she had been responsible for Jacob's murder. Black and red, blood and death.

"Here to add to your hit list?" she asked, giving her a hard stare.

"I hope not. I just wanted to talk with you." Natasha held her hands out slightly to show that she meant no harm.

"There's nothing you can say that will _ever_ make it okay."

"I know." Natasha didn't apologize for what she had done, because _I'm sorry_ was awfully hollow when looking at the destruction that had resulted.

"Ivan begged for your life. Not his – _yours_." Kestrel's expression twisted with revulsion. "Do you fuck _every_ man that crosses your path? Is that how you make them love you, do anything for you? Jacob was just a kid, he had his _whole_ life ahead of him!"

The words stung but it wasn't anything she hadn't heard before. She felt a small twinge of shame to know that the others, her friends, were listening to every word.

"I'm not the same person I was then," Natasha said softly.

"Bullshit. People don't change. Look at you, all decked out like some military whore. You could have led a quiet life somewhere, but instead you continue to lie, seduce, and kill. It's all you're good at, and all you'll ever be good at. And deep down, you _enjoy_ it."

* * *

"For the record, I really hate this woman," Tony announced.

Bruce glanced at him. "She might have a small point… Yes, it was wrong that Natasha killed her brother. But the family members were all involved into the mob. It isn't as if, if he'd never gotten involved with Natasha, that he'd have been fine. Someone else would have been hired and killed him instead."

"I wish that had been the case. Then crazypants wouldn't be ripping old wounds open." Tony sighed.

"So, how long have you been in love with Natasha?"

"Ever since…" Tony caught himself and glared at his friend. "Hey! Mind your own business."

Bruce grinned. "Sorry. I couldn't help it. You're lucky, you know. She isn't afraid of you."

"Why would she be? She knows 20 different ways to kill me in my sleep without leaving the bed." Then he realized Bruce was speaking more about himself. "Ross' daughter?"

"Don't want to talk about it."

Tony was silent a moment. "I think it's an even exchange. Sure, you turn into a huge green rage monster but… you know, her father's an asshole."

Bruce gave him a dark look, though was unable to completely hold back a smirk. His gaze shifted to the monitor when he realized Natasha's heartbeat was increasing. "Steve, her heartbeat's elevating."

"Copy that. Hawkeye, Agent 13, standby.

* * *

Kestrel's words bothered her but it wasn't enough to get a reaction from her. Not until she started threatening Tony.

"Leave him out of this. If you'll just turn yourself in, we'll get you the help you need. It doesn't have to end in blood."

"That's how I always wanted it to end, bitch. One or both of us, it didn't matter." Kestrel reached into her pocket and produced a small detonation device. She gave Natasha a smile that showed quite clearly she had broken with reality a long time ago.

Natasha pulled out her gun, but didn't have to fire.

Before Kestrel could activate the device, thunder boomed and a small red hole blossomed on her forehead. She fell back, still smiling, eyes seeing nothing, and fell to the plush carpeted floor. Red seeped out slowly, staining the pristine white.

Kestrel may have been insane, but her actions had the desired effect.

Natasha would never forget her.

* * *

Natasha said little as Tony drove them back to his home. When he looked at her, he saw that she looked pensive but not anguished and he was relieved. The nightmare was over and she was moving on.

Once they were inside, she touched his arm and pressed up against him. He needed no further invitation.

Tony tangled his hand in her hair and leaned down, kissing her deeply. He walked her back until he pressed her against the wall and she groaned, kissing him harder.

She felt him unzip the front of her suit, the black leather parting to reveal creamy skin. He muttered something against her throat.

"What?" she asked, her voice breathy.

"I said you have shapeshifting boobs. They don't look as big in your suit, caught in this awful bra." He tugged at her compression sports bra. "It's a crime."

Natasha tilted her head back and laughed, the sound rich and throaty. "It's necessary."

"It's ugly." He pushed her uniform back from her shoulders and then fought with the tight sports bra until he was able to get it off. "Finally." His hands cupped her breasts reverently.

She was about to laugh again but then his hot mouth was pressed against her cool skin and she moaned loudly, burning in a way that she used to resist but now reveled in, sinking down to the floor with him and feeling more alive than she ever had before.

She was home.


	9. What'd you get me this time, thigh high boots and a riding crop?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's been enough angst and drama, time for some fluff. No offense to anyone who likes Applebee's, Tony's just a wee bit of a snob.

It was mutually agreed that Natasha would remain with Tony, ostensibly as his personal assistant but really as a bodyguard and contact to S.H.I.E.L.D. Although Fury knew that the assassination attempt had been because of Tony's connection to Natasha, he was aware that there were still a large number of people that were eager to see the billionaire dead.

Tony was satisfied with that arrangement, as he'd have refused to cooperate with anyone else. He also would have been bothered if a male agent had been assigned to babysit him, because the memory of Coulson's death still hurt. And though he wouldn't say it aloud to her or anyone else, he had slowly come to trust Natasha.

But it didn't mean he still didn't like teasing her.

He wondered how long it would take her to find it, and it happened only a day after he had placed it there, hidden with the rest of her clothing in her closet. Though more often than not she ended up in his bedroom at night, she still had her own bedroom when she needed some time alone.

He heard the clicking of high heels coming down the stairs followed by beeping as she entered her access code in the door. That was another thing he enjoyed about her doing the job of his personal assistant. He was able to see her wearing skirts and dresses.

"What is _this_?" she asked, holding out the offending item on a hangar with the tips of her fingers.

He looked up from the repairs he was making on the Iron Man suit and smiled innocently. "It looks like a French maid's outfit to me."

The scowl on her beautiful face him laugh.

"It's in my size. How did you-?"

"I would never go through your personal things to find a size tag, Natasha. That would be creepy. Let's just say that I can do a lot when I'm scanning objects and people while in the suit."

"Oh, because _that's_ less creepy."

He laughed again, and he seemed so pleased with himself, like a mischievous child, that it was beginning to amuse her. She flung the outfit aside disdainfully and approached him, wrapping her arms around him from behind.

"The sizes were small, medium, and large. It wasn't hard to guess," Tony assured her, turning his head to breathe in the sweet, slightly spicy scent of her perfume. "I just had to be sure and account for your amazing breasts."

"Hmmm." She would think of revenge later. Although she wouldn't admit it, she rather enjoyed the bickering and battle of wits. It kept things lively and let her know that he wasn't just her lover; he was her friend, too.

"I got a present for you."

" _Another_ one?" Natasha looked at him suspiciously. "What'd you get me this time, thigh high boots and a riding crop?"

"No, I got you something you don't already own."

She growled against his ear and gave him a little biting kiss on the neck that made him groan. "What _else_ did you snoop through in my closet?"

"I saw the purple box, and I can tell you right now I can build you a better one and even model it after my—"

"I am going to pretend really hard that I didn't just hear you say that," Natasha interrupted, half exasperated and half amused as hell. "What present did you get me?"

"Oh, right." He smiled and reached for the box that was stashed beneath the table. He handed it to her. It was wrapped in Iron Man wrapping paper and tied with a big red bow.

Her expression was still suspicious but he watched as her slim fingers delicately unwrapped the bow, set it aside, and carefully slid her fingers under the edges to neatly unwrap the paper. She pulled the lid off of the box and inside there was a gun with a cartridge that looked different than the kinds she had seen and used before.

"I know you prefer to use firearms, but that bullets sometimes don't really make much of an impact on the kinds of creatures we have to deal with. So I modified the electro-static energy blasts that you have in your bracelets, amplified them so they're more powerful, and put them in cartridges. That way you have the aim of a gun, and the force and intensity of an energy blast will at the very least knock someone back to put more space safely between you."

Natasha looked at him with wide eyes, unbelievably touched that he had made such a thoughtful gift for her. "Tony, I…"

He brushed back her curls, and affectionately rubbed the backs of his fingers against her cheek. "I know you're highly trained and deadly in hand-to-hand combat. I hope you don't think I'm all… here's a big strong gun, because you're just a tiny woman who can't handle herself." She _was_ a small woman but he was perfectly aware she could kick his ass with one hand tied behind her back.

"No, I…" She bit her lower lip and then smiled at him. "No one's ever cared like this before… no one's ever gone out of their way to do something for me, because they wanted me to be safer in battle." She picked up the gun and loaded the cartridge. "I love it. Thank you!"

Tony smiled gently, fondly, thinking that only she would be so excited about a new gun. "Go ahead and test it out," he said, bringing out a bunch of mannequins he'd bought for just that purpose.

For a few moments he watched her happily begin to test out her new weapon, and then he smiled, turning back to his suit. He didn't really look up again until he heard Jarvis announce Pepper's arrival.

Natasha put down her gun. "I should leave."

"No, you shouldn't. You live here. And it's too late, anyway." He heard beeping at the lab door and then looked over to see Pepper's familiar willowy figure. "Hey, Pepper. Long time no see," he greeted her warmly.

"Hi, Tony." She smiled at him and then her gaze swept to the woman standing several feet away from charred and smoking mannequins. "Natasha." Although she had accepted that her romantic relationship with Tony hadn't worked out, and had moved on to start dating Happy, she still felt a tiny pang of jealousy. Somehow, she expected some sort of triumphant mean girl behavior from the Russian, but there was nothing of the sort.

"Hi, Pepper." Natasha's gaze was compassionate and almost apologetic. She removed the cartridge and put the gun down before she began to clean up the mess she had made, being careful to not rub in any possible hurt feelings by making sure she kept her distance from Tony.

Tony, either unaware of the tension or – more likely – choosing to ignore it, soldered a part into place. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"What?" Pepper asked, looking back at him.

"Of your visit?"

"Oh, right." She smiled and walked closer to him. "Just some things I need your signature on before I go back to New York."

"Not a problem." Tony took the pen that she offered and he scribbled his signature on a half-dozen pages without bothering to read them. He trusted Pepper with everything, after all.

"Thank you." Pepper took back the papers. "I'll see you in a couple of weeks." She looked over at Natasha and nodded. They would probably never be friends, but they wouldn't be enemies, either. "Don't let him harass you too much, Natasha."

Tony scoffed. "Would I—"

"Yes," Natasha cut in, and then gave Pepper a smile. "Thank you. Have a safe trip back to New York."

Pepper left, but on the other side of the door paused. She glanced back over her shoulder, and saw that Natasha had gone to him and she was gazing at him with affection and… and with love.

The pang returned, but she was able to push it aside, because at least now she knew he would be in good hands. No one would be able to harm him, not with the deadliest woman in the world at his side.

* * *

"Let's go out to dinner tonight."

"Have you forgotten what happened the last time we went out?"

"Of course not. I fondly remember the feeling of your breasts smashed up against my face. Oh, and you saving my life, too." Tony smirked at her. "It's not going to happen every time we go on a date, Tash. And if it does, well, there's just extra motivation for us to get take out and then make good use of all the furniture we haven't yet gotten to christen."

"Oh, Tony. You're _so_ romantic." She rolled her eyes at him, biting back a smile. "All right, fine. We'll go out to dinner but I get to pick the place."

"Sounds fair. Where do you want to go?"

"Applebee's."

Tony stared at her blankly, waiting for the punch line. When none came, he tried his very best to not sound horrified. "Um, okay…. We can do that. There… there must be one of those things nearby."

_Those things._ Natasha internally laughed. Outwardly, she gazed at him serenely and smiled. "Okay."

Tony nodded and was about to ask Jarvis to find him the closest one then he shook his head. "No, Natasha. No. I just can't. Taking you there! We might as well just go get drive through at Burger King. Which, you know, I'd actually _prefer_."

She was unable to keep up the serious façade any longer and burst out laughing. He realized he had been played and scowled at her. Still laughing, she took his face in her hands and leaned up to kiss him.

"I just couldn't help myself. Just like you couldn't help but go through my stuff and leave me that delightful outfit. That's just who we are. A man too smart for his own good and a poker faced sneak."

Tony's scowl was kissed away and he smiled at her. "I won't change, if you won't?"

"Deal."

They sealed the promise with another kiss.


	10. You've only ever known me with the nightlight in my chest.

It was nearing the second year of anniversary of when Tony had been held captive. He wasn't very good with dates, didn't even bother to remember his own birthday (although he had recently programmed Jarvis to remind him of Natasha's; despite the likelihood that he would at least recall Halloween if nothing else because of seeing people dressed up in costumes), so he wasn't aware of it and dwelling upon it but somehow his consciousness knew because that's when the nightmares began again.

Natasha, who was observant because her life had literally depended upon it at one point in her murky past, noticed the subtle changes in him. Smiling a little less, the flashes of irritability he later laughed off, the trouble sleeping, and the flinching awakenings.

Her sharp mind put two and two together and the woman in her ached to comfort him. They still had boundaries in their relationship, though, because neither wanted to prod old wounds in the other. So she remained quiet, waiting for him to choose to open up to her, hoping he would do so before the urge to drink overpowered him.

* * *

Tony awoke from his nightmare with a strangled sound, and began gulping at air as if he couldn't get enough. For a moment he experienced a moment of utter panic. The room was too dark save for the eerie glow given off by the arc reactor ( _Oh god, what is in my chest?_ ), and he didn't know where he was. The memories of what had happened along with the horror and guilt of what Stark Industries had been complicit in roared with a cacophony of distorted voices and made the walls press in against him.

He wanted a drink.

The sheets rustled and there was a small hand on his back, soft lips against his ear. A voice, he couldn't hear her words, but he heard the cadence of her tone, always just a little exciting undercurrent of seduction present.

_Tash._ He couldn't turn his head, not yet, but his mind began to conjure an image of big green eyes and long dark red curls, rosy lips and soft full breasts. Slowly, he began to breathe again, forgetting about the drink.

"Jarvis, uncover the windows," Natasha commanded, and the AI complied immediately. Moonlight filtered in through the glass, chasing away the worst of the shadows and when he finally turned his head her creamy skin was bright against the black sheets.

She cradled his face in her hands, looking into eyes so dark they looked black right now. "Tony, you're at home in Malibu."

"Right… right." He licked his dry lips. "I remember now."

"Tell me your name. Look around you. Tell me what you see."

"My name is Tony Stark. I'm in my bedroom… with you. What do I see? Walls and a ceiling, windows overlooking the ocean, our clothes scattered… we had sex before we went to sleep." He started out talking in almost robotic tone but by the end he sounded almost normal.

"Yes, we did." She smoothed his hair with a tenderness she had not known she was capable of feeling – at all, or for another person.

His lips curled into a familiar smirk and she was thankful to see it, despite knowing that a crack was coming. "You screamed."

"I did _not_ scream."

The smirk widened to a grin. "Jarvis can play it back for you if you'd like—"

"I know you did _not_ record us having sex." She huffed at him and he laughed, holding up his hands in a placating gesture.

"No, I wouldn't without your consent," he assured her, then wrapped his arms tightly around her.

The arc reactor pressed hard into her own chest, but she ignored it and stroked his back. "Tony…? I'd like it if you would talk to me about what's been bothering you. But if you're not ready, that's okay. I'm not going anywhere, either way."

Tony lay back on the bed with her, and pillowed his head on her breasts. Her fingertips traced over his goatee and then up his jawline, finally back up to stroke his hair. He pressed kisses over her breasts and finally rested his cheek down with a sigh, breathing in the faint scent of her berries and vanilla lotion.

"They said I had posttraumatic stress disorder."

"It isn't uncommon to experience that after a traumatic event."

"Did you?"

She thought about how to answer, and then decided that she could only be honest with him. "I did. I had flashbacks, jumped at every sound, was terrified of fire not to mention my own shadow, and cried all the time."

He hadn't known she was afraid of fire, would never have guessed since she remained cool and composed around explosions and flames. "So what changed?"

"I was brainwashed and experienced extensive psychological conditioning. I don't fully remember everything… I remember enough, in a rather disconnected away, as though the events happened to another person entirely and I was merely an observer."

"Tash…. I'm so sorry." His hands, which had been relaxed, clenched into fists at the thought of her being violated like that.

"Shh. It happened a long time ago." She looked down at him and smiled. "I definitely don't recommend that as a treatment, though."

"I don't think I have PTSD."

"Agreed. You don't currently meet the full criteria. But you are still experiencing distress now."

"Yes." He sighed, closing his eyes briefly. "Well… it's because it's the anniversary of when the Ten Rings took me captive. That… you know, that doesn't bother me as much as… Yinsen's death. As knowing what my company did, with my name on all the weapons that killed who knows how many innocent people."

"Tony… you didn't know then. You know now."

"I didn't _want_ to know. I let Obadiah handle everything. I'm still responsible."

"And you're taking accountability for it. What more can you do?" She ran her hand down, pressing her palm over the miniaturized arc reactor in his chest.

His mouth twisted. "You've only ever known me with the nightlight in my chest. Sometimes… sometimes I wish you could've known me before it was…"

"I don't."

"What?"

"I don't wish I could have known you before then. Because let's be honest. Back then, you'd probably have screwed me for a night – or two, if I were lucky. And then you'd have forgotten me and my name by the next weekend."

"Natasha—" He wanted to protest but she was right.

"Do you think the arc reactor bothers me? It doesn't. It keeps you alive, Tony, so how could a little glow bother me?" She leaned down, kissing him slowly and somehow, helping to chase away the demons. "I'm glad I met you when I did," she whispers. "I'm glad you didn't give up on me, even when I rejected you so many times. I won't give up on you, either. No matter what you think you've done."

Tony shifted on the bed, moving over her and leaning down to kiss her again, slowly and deeply. She hadn't tried to minimize his role in things by trying to claim that he was innocent. She acknowledged the part that he had played and pointed out that he was trying to do the right thing now. He was trying to atone, even as she was for her own bloody past. And she understood.

Afterward, when he breathlessly moved off her, she caught her own breath and then contentedly curled up against him, speaking softly to him until he was able to drift off.

When he slept, it was deeply and dreamlessly.

* * *

The next night was an event for Stark Industries that Pepper had convinced him he had to attend, or at least make an appearance. He arrived with Natasha as his date, the dark burgundy color of his shirt matching her dress.

Inside, it wasn't hard to find Pepper – he looked for the only six foot tall strawberry blonde in the room. She was dancing with Happy but when she noticed him she smiled and waved.

"Don't beat up on Happy again," he told Natasha.

"I didn't beat up on him. He startled me and I just… put him on the mat."

"What a delicate way to describe how you took him down." Tony laughed.

She looked at him demurely and smiled, still firmly in her public persona.

Happy was a good-natured man and had forgiven Natasha for the demonstration. He was just pleased his former boss had someone that was looking out for him. She stood by Tony as he chatted with his friends, then he led her to the dance floor.

"One dance and we'll get out of here, I promise," he told her.

"Yes, Mr. Stark," she purred and he laughed, pulling her closer.

"Why can't I get you to say that at home?"

"I'll say it. I just won't mean it." Her lashes dipped and she looked at him, one corner of her mouth slightly tilted as though she were trying not to smile or laugh.

"Tease," he said, then leaned down and kissed her slowly.

Natasha froze, because it was the first time he had kissed her in public. There had been speculation, of course, but after this there would be no going back, no ability to deny a relationship with him.

Her eyes shut and she gripped his shoulders, kissing him deeply.

So be it.

If he could – with eyes wide open – choose to be with her, even after knowing all the horrible things she had done, how could she not be proud to stand by him in public?

* * *

It wasn't only one dance, it was actually several because they were enjoying themselves, but eventually they decided to leave and of course, the press followed them out. She was irritated because she disliked people being so close to her, and their recording devices and the flashes of their cameras bothered her.

"I'm sorry, we're almost to the car," Tony said under his breath, knowing how uncomfortable she was. He handed his ticket to the valet, who took his keys off the hook and jogged to retrieve his car.

Tony stood with his arm around her waist, able to ignore the yammering from the press.

Until one male spoke up behind them, "So, do you really think being Iron Man and playing at being a superhero is really going to undo all the murders that were sanctioned by you and your company?"

He went cold and as he turned to answer he felt Natasha spin around and the reporter cry out.

"I'm _so_ sorry," Natasha said earnestly, her eyes wide. "Did I hurt you? You must have been standing too close to me because I felt your hand touch my rear and that startled me."

The other reporters were staring at the man who had been smacked in the face by Natasha's little purse. He turned red. "I wasn't— I didn't touch you!"

"Could you please move back?" Natasha asked, looking uncomfortable.

A female reporter glared at him. "We're here to ask Tony Stark questions, not to grope women."

Another male chimed in. "Show the lady some respect."

"If you want to interview me, make an appointment. But keep your hands off my girlfriend," Tony told him haughtily.

"Girlfriend?" One began taking furious notes, while the first reporter continued to argue with the others that he had not behaved inappropriately.

The valet returned with the car and got out, running around to open up Natasha's door. She slid in gracefully as Tony took the keys, generously tipped the valet, and got into the driver's side letting the reporters squabble it out.

"Thanks," he said to her, glancing over once they were at a red light. "For deflecting that."

"I love you," she said, simply and without fanfare. She hadn't meant to say it, but it had slipped out and there was no going back. Still a part of her worried he didn't feel the same way.

His heart skipped a beat and he looked at her for a long moment, feeling incredibly happy. "I love you, too, Tash. I may suck at saying it, and will forget things… a lot of things. But…"

"Shh. We're not good at saying these types of things. And it's okay." She leaned over and kissed him, caressing his cheek, feeling almost intoxicated with relief and pleasure. "Show me when we get home."

He returned the kiss heatedly, pulling away when someone behind them honked because the light had changed.

Tony laughed and sped all the way home, joyous because she loved him, in spite of him.


	11. Sometimes I can't decide whether I want to kiss you or kill you.

"This is not going to end well."

"Stop being so negative."

Tony scoffed. "The last time Steve went on a date was never. This is certain to be a disaster."

Natasha looked at his reflection in the mirror she stood in front of, putting on the last of her makeup. "Which is why we're going to be there. To _help_ , not mock." She applied her red lipstick and he found himself gazing at her lips.

Tony sighed and stood up, moving behind her and running his hands over the black silk of her sheath dress, one hand moving to touch her thigh, slightly exposed by the slit in the dress. "Come on, Tash…"

Natasha lightly swatted his hand. "No. Behave." Then his lips were on her neck and her lashes fluttered, as she seriously considered staying in tonight. After a long moment she recovered herself and elbowed him in the stomach. " _No_. Later, Tony."

"Oof. Violent woman."

She turned around to face him. "If I didn't love you, you'd be limping downstairs to the car," she pointed out sweetly.

He paused. "Point taken. Come on, Tasha, you're going to make us late."

She gave him a dirty look and he smiled at her, innocent as a lamb.

"What?" he asked.

"Sometimes I can't decide whether I want to kiss you or kill you," she said, taking his arm and going down to the garage with him.

"What can I say? I like living dangerously," he said, and to prove it squeezed her ass before she got into the car.

* * *

"What is the matter with you?" Tony asked, once they were seated at the restaurant. "You look like you're about to pass out. And she's not even here yet. Did she decide to bail already?"

"No… wait, at least I don't think so." Steve suddenly looked worried.

"Tony!" Natasha hissed. "Not helpful. She's flying in from a last minute assignment."

"Well, unless Thor decided to dance around in the clouds, she should be here by now," Tony said, looking through the menu.

"What if she _did_ change her mind?" Steve asked Natasha.

"Ow!" Tony blurted out suddenly, leaning down to rub his shin.

"That's what you get," Natasha says, glaring at him, and then turning to her friend. "She didn't. Traffic here sucks. I'm sure she'll be here in the next few minutes," she said confidently.

Sure enough, there was the sound of stilettos clacking on marble and a breathless blonde in a white dress approached the table.

"I'm so sorry I'm late!" she said, in between pants. "I was late getting off the ground and my phone died – it was just a mess."

"It's all right," Steve said, smiling at her and standing to pull her chair back for her. "I'm just… happy you made it."

She smiled at him. "I looked forward to this since you asked me."

"Good to see you, Agent Carter," Tony said, snapping his menu shut.

She smiled. "Please, call me Sharon."

Steve went back to his seat, feeling much better. He glanced briefly at Natasha, grateful for her calming presence. The double date had been her idea and he was glad he had agreed to it.

"Sharon." Natasha greeted her with a smile. "How did you get involved with S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

"I was recruited in college and when I graduated, I took an entry level position immediately. I was a chemistry major at Vanderbilt, and I figured I could put my knowledge to good use."

Tony glanced up curiously. "Wow. I knew you could shoot things but you're really not just…" He actually caught himself.

"A dumb blonde?" Sharon finished for him. "God, I hope not." She laughed.

Steve frowned at him. "Did you really just insult her to her face?"

"No, I said she _wasn't_ a dumb blonde. Try and keep up."

"I'm going to—"

"Anyway," Natasha cut in. "How about we order dinner, now that Sharon has arrived?"

* * *

Natasha was thankful that she did not have to kick Tony again under the table. She, who was an expert on reading people, could clearly see that Steve was interested in Sharon, though not exactly sure of how to act.

Sharon was socially skilled and deftly carried on the conversation, with occasional help from Natasha. Toward the end of dinner, Steve finally began to relax and even Tony was behaving himself.

"How long have you two been together?" Sharon asked, looking at Natasha and Tony.

"Oh, um…." Natasha looked at Tony.

He gazed back at her, his expression affectionate, but he shrugged. "Sorry, baby, you know how bad I am with dates."

"And I'm not sentimental so…" Natasha paused, trying to think back.

"Wow. You both are _awful_ at this," Steve said, then laughed.

"We really are," Natasha admitted. "I don't know. A while."

"I could consult Jarvis," Tony offered. "He would know for sure." He took his phone from his jacket pocket, and a minute later turned triumphantly back to them. "If you count since the time we had our first real date, it's been 7 months."

"You had to call your computer to verify that?" Steve asked. "Sad. So sad."

"Steve has a point," Natasha said, and smirked. "Well, at least we know now."

"So, why'd you decide to date Steve?" Tony asked, showing that as usual he had no tact and poor boundaries. "I mean… just looking at you, I'm sure you don't lack options."

Natasha sighed and signaled for more wine to be brought to the table.

Sharon blinked at his bluntness. "Thank you… I think." She smiled. "I agreed to the date because I like him a lot. That's the summary of why. The other reasons are… none of your business." She laughed.

Tony mock sniffed. "Junior's growing up. Tash, I'm so proud."

"I am not your junior," Steve grumbled at him, looking up from the shyly affectionate gaze he cast on Sharon.

"Steve's taller and bigger than you, Tony," Sharon observed, and Steve grinned.

"Only because of that serum! Which, incidentally, he should be _thanking_ me for because of my father's contribution not to mention the assistance from Stark Industries."

"Whatever, Tin Man," Steve said dismissively. "Green isn't your color."

"Oh, you did not…" Tony glared at him.

Natasha burst out laughing. Sharon smirked down into her wine glass, trying to hold back her own laughter.

Tony was about to respond but he felt a small foot rub up against his calf. He looked up to see Natasha demurely gazing at him from beneath long thick lashes.

"Excuse me," she purred. "I have to go to the ladies' room." She stood up and walked away, the sway of her hips attracting the attention of every man.

Except, of course, Steve. "Sure," he said, looking at Sharon.

Tony waited a moment. "I'll be back," he said, tossing his napkin to the table and also heading for the restrooms.

Sharon watched Tony's hurried stride and smiled to herself. It was obvious what was going to happen next, and equally obvious that Steve had no idea. But that was definitely a good thing, because she suspected he'd be embarrassed if he knew. His innocence was endearing.

They sat in comfortable silence, and she finished off the last of her wine. When after a couple of minutes Tony and Natasha still had not returned, she spoke up.

"I'm glad you asked me out," she said softly, reaching out to touch his hand.

Steve turned his hand over to be able to hold her much smaller one. "It took me a while," he admitted. "I was afraid you'd say no. I know what I look like now… but sometimes when I first wake up, I still think I'm the little runt I once was. Or I'm afraid that I'll turn back into that."

"You won't. And even if you do, your heart is still the same. And that's what matters."

_I could fall in love with her_ , he thought. He was halfway there already and she was warm and solid and real. Not a ghost, not a fantasy.

_Sharon_.

Her gaze was gentle and she brought up his hand, kissing his palm. He caressed her cheek, pushed back a stray lock of wavy honey colored hair.

"You're… too good, too beautiful to be true."

"I'm not. I shop too much, have a hard time dragging myself out of bed in the mornings, and I'm not a good cook, despite my repeated efforts to improve. I promise you, sugar, I'm only human."

And because she knew that he was too shy and she couldn't wait any longer, she went around to sit beside him, leaning in to softly kiss him.

Steve felt one of her hands rest on his shoulder, the other cupping his cheek and then her gentle lips on his. He returned the kiss, hoping he wasn't too awkward or clumsy for her. But when he pulled back and she smiled brightly at him, his heart soared.

Tony clapped as he approached the table with Natasha. "About time."

Steve turned around and would have been embarrassed, except something was… _off_. Tony's tie was crooked and his hair was sticking up even more so than usual. There was a smeared streak of red across the back of his hand. Natasha's lipstick was completely gone, her dress looked slightly crumpled around the hips, and there was a small mark between her neck and shoulder.

"You… didn't…" Steven began.

Tony smiled smugly as he sat down.

"Oh, yeah. _Did_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I don't know how they are going to introduce Sharon Carter into the movie verse, this is my take on her which is somewhat different than the Sharon Carter in the comics. Still a Southern girl, still a bamf, but not as hard.


	12. It says, None of your business, Rhodey.

Admittedly, James Rhodes had not been to the Stark mansion in quite some time but when Tony answered the door and he strode inside, he looked around in disbelief. Gone were the neutrals he'd become familiar with and in their stead was black with red accents.

"You… redecorated?"

"Want a drink?" Tony closed the door. "Of course not. I wanted Natasha to feel more like this was her home, too, so I told her to do whatever she wanted with the furniture and art."

"No, I don't want a drink." Unsurprisingly, Tony went to the bar anyway. "Let me get this straight. You, the biggest commitment phobe on the planet, has had a spy living with you for months, and you let her redecorate your entire house?"

"She isn't spying on _me_." Tony emerged from the bar with two glasses of scotch. "And no, not the whole house. The lab's the same as ever." He offered James one glass, then sank down into the new black leather couch.

"Whatever happened with Pepper?" he asked, reluctantly taking the glass and sitting in the matching black leather sofa chair.

"Were you in a coma for the past year?" he scoffed. "I love Pepper. She's a sweet girl but it didn't work out. I got…"

"Bored?"

"It's nothing against her. I trust her with my life. But… yeah." He had the grace to look the slightest bit sheepish.

James took a sip then gave him a hard stare. "You really are something. You bitched for months about how you couldn't stand Romanova because she was a liar. I couldn't even stand talking with you during that time because you'd inevitably find some way to bring her name into the conversation."

"I was upset with her," he acknowledged. "I was attracted to her and felt… betrayed, I guess."

"But now?"

"Still attracted to her." He smiled. "She's just so… it's not just that she's beautiful and sexy as hell. She's crafty and cunning and unpredictable. Just when I think I might have her figured out, she throws me a curveball and has me guessing again. I don't think I'm ever going to figure her out."

And, James realized, that was why Tony was so into her, or at least part of the reason. He couldn't become bored with a woman he was unable to ever fully figure out.

"You do look… happy." He looked around the living room. "It's awfully quiet here. Where is Natasha, anyway?"

"Having a girl's day with her new friend, Agent Carter."

"Oh, they went to the spa?"

Tony rolled his eyes and laughed. "Don't be an idiot. It's an assassin and a sniper. Of course they didn't go to the spa. They went to the shooting range."

"Of course," James said sardonically, setting down his drink. "So why'd you invite me over? Get lonely?"

"Hardly. I wanted to ask your opinion on something."

"Tony Stark actually looking before he leaps. Is the world going to end?"

Tony ignored his sarcasm and traced the rim of his glass idly. "I want to marry her."

"Who?"

"The Queen of England. _Natasha_. Who do you think?"

James laughed. "That was a good one. You almost had me convinced that you were serious." When Tony sighed and merely raised his brows, James stared at him. "You _are_ serious."

"Very serious. I love her. Intellectually, I know that that's due to the dopamine in my brain and that those feelings of being in love typically last 18 months to 3 years. But I've already known her almost a year and a half, and if oxytocin gets stronger, making me feel more bonded..."

"Tony, I know for someone who's 'relationships' – and I use the term loosely – last only at best and by really stretching the definition, weeks, that a year and a half must feel like 60 years to you. But in case you haven't noticed, your net worth has increased since you became Iron Man."

Tony sat back and glared at him. "And the point of that, professor, is…?"

"Are you certain that _she_ loves _you_?"

"Yes."

"How? She's an exceptionally skilled liar and you're probably not the first man that's succumbed to her charm. She's called the Black Widow for a reason."

Despite the harshness of his words, James was not trying to be cruel or spoil his happiness. Though Tony could be the most exasperating person he knew, they were friends and he felt it was his responsibility to make sure that Tony was not committing a huge mistake. A mistake that would end with him betrayed – again – but this time also heartbroken.

Tony shook his head. "She's called Black Widow because that's what successful graduates of the training program she went through in Russia were called. She's the most dangerous one, so she is considered _the_ Black Widow. I'm well aware of her skills and what she's done. Do you really think early on I didn't find every single piece of information on her that Jarvis could give me access to? She isn't an easy person to know, and it took me a long time to just get her to agree to go out on a date with me. But thanks, I really appreciate knowing that you don't think she could love me for me and instead is after my money." He stood up to refill his glass.

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

"Please, enlighten me as to what you _did_ mean."

James was silent for a moment. "I don't trust her and I don't want to see you get hurt."

"I… can appreciate that, but this isn't something I just woke up deciding to do. I've given this a lot of thought." He withdrew something from his pocket and tossed it at James, who caught it in one hand.

It was a small black velvet ring box.

"Jesus," James muttered.

Tony ignored that. "I designed it myself."

James sighed and opened up the box. To his relief, it was less ostentatious than he would have expected from Tony Stark. Inside on a tiny satin cushion sat a platinum ring with a sparkling princess cut diamond; baguette cut rubies set around the band with tiny engravings in between them that looked like T2.

"T-squared?" James asked, looking over at him.

"Duh. Tony and Tash. TT. T-squared."

_Only a math and science nerd_ , James thought. The inside was engraved, but he didn't understand the language. "What does it say on the inside?"

"It says, None of your business, Rhodey. In Russian."

"Ha ha. You are so funny." He closed the box and tossed it back to him.

Tony smirked and caught it, tucking it back into his pocket. He came back from the bar with his refilled glass. "I would have thought you'd be proud of me wanting to make an honest woman of someone."

"I would have been thrilled if you'd wanted to marry Pepper."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Pepper is happy with Happy."

"I guess that's true." James took another sip of his glass. "So when are you going to pop the question."

"I don't know." He sat back down. "Contrary to what you think, she's not one to drag a man down the aisle. I haven't even broached the topic with her yet."

"Her boss doesn't have a problem with your relationship?"

"No. He's not exactly the type to keep things to himself so I don't think Fury cares much one way or the other. I'm not even an employee of S.H.I.E.L.D. And anyway, my relationship with Natasha makes me more cooperative."

James was about to answer but Jarvis interrupted.

"Natasha is arriving, sir."

A few moments later, Natasha comes up from the garage. The petite redhead gave James a brief glance, then went over to kiss Tony in greeting.

"Hey, Tash. Did you have a good time?" Tony tugged her down onto his lap, which to James' surprise she tolerated with an amused smile.

"I did. What about you?"

"It was all right. You know what a wet blanket Rhodey is."

Natasha turned to stare at James with piercing green eyes. "I remember the last time you got worked up. Don't trash the house again."

"Me?" James sat up indignantly. "Tony started it. He was drunk off his ass and – why am I even explaining it to you? You were there!"

"Tony's… _Tony_. You should know better."

James looked at Tony, but he was no help. He was nuzzling his face into Natasha's hair, looking happy as could be.

"She has a point," Tony finally said. "We all know to expect misbehavior from me. But a fine upstanding citizen like yourself, Rhodey? You're held to higher standards."

"You both are impossible. I was wrong. You are a _perfect_ match."

"A perfect match?" Natasha repeated, looking at her lover with a raised eyebrow.

Tony smiled and shrugged. "He's been drinking. Who knows what he means?"

James glared. "Tony… seriously? You're going to be like that?"

Natasha's gaze fell on Tony's drink and she bit her lip briefly. Her brow creased and it was such a fleeting look of concern that James almost thought he had imagined it.

"No more tonight, okay?" she asked gently, trailing a fingertip along Tony's jawline.

"All right." He was well satisfied, would have promised her the world if she asked it of him.

Natasha smiled, her gaze soft, and leaned in to kiss him.

James watched them a moment then quickly looked away, feeling as though he were intruding on something private.

Maybe he was wrong…

Maybe she _did_ love Tony.


	13. It's not your fault.

Natasha's fingers flew over the keyboard and she focused all of her attention on the screen in front of her. She could hear shouting and the sounds of gunfire and explosions but she had to believe that the rest of the Avengers would be buying her enough time in order to copy the contents of the super computer onto a flash drive for Jarvis to later sift through.

She wiped away a trickle of sweat from her forehead, her gaze on the download bar that popped up on the screen.

"Downloading initiated, I only need a couple more minutes," she reported into her radio.

"It's going to be close," Steve answered a moment later, his voice sounding slightly out of breath. "As soon as it finishes, you need to get clear."

"Understood." She bit her tongue to prevent herself from asking how Tony was doing. He was more than capable of handling himself. Although she would never admit it to a living soul, the memory of being the one to close the portal on him during their first Avengers mission still haunted her.

It had been Steve's order, and she understood why it had to be done, but even now she recalled the tightening in her chest as she had complied. And later, how she had looked away and pressed her hand into her bleeding head to keep anyone from seeing on her face the look of sheer relief that he had made it through and back to them.

The ground suddenly rolled beneath her feet, but thanks to her assassin's reflexes and dancer's training she was able to quickly regain her balance.

"Steve?"

"The building is beginning to collapse. Natasha, get out of there!"

Natasha gripped the edge of the desk. "Hold on, just a few more seconds…" She snatched the drive out once the download finished, tucking it into a zippered compartment on her belt. Parts of the ceiling began collapsing on her and she threw up her hand to protect her head from falling debris.

She ran for the exit to the stairs but it was blocked and for a moment she felt choked and trapped. That was on the inside; on the outside she remained as cold and composed as ever. "Steve, I can't get out through the way I came in. I'm going to have to find another way out."

"I'm sending someone for you."

Her quick mind took an inventory of the entrances and exits she had observed on the blueprints the day before and rerouted her through the only way out that was still viable.

Natasha put her arms up and turned her head to the side to protect her face and eyes from the window she broke through. It wasn't the first time she had had to escape through a window but her body still jolted with the brutal impact. Then suddenly she was freefalling along with the broken glass that was raining down.

Even with the enhancements that the Red Room program had given her, she knew that she was going to have broken bones from the landing. She took a deep breath in preparation…

And then suddenly strong, hard hands plucked her out of the air.

"Gotcha," Tony said as he flew past, grasping her like a groom carrying his bride over the threshold.

She let out her breath. "Nice save."

"I try."

She couldn't see his face with the helmet on, but had been with him long enough to know that he was smiling.

Tony flew her down to safety, where civilians had scattered and were hiding. If he had been thinking about more than just relief that he had gotten to her before she'd been injured, he might have adjusted his hold on her. He might have set her down on her feet right away. He might have tried to obscure the truth of their relationship.

But because he was a man who was not good at subterfuge and who did everything with his entire being, he did none of those things.

He stood with her in his arms, gazing down at her. The helmet prevented anyone from seeing the expression of love he wore for her.

Natasha tilted her head and looked up at him, and he responded by angling his head toward her.

It was in that particular pose – her lips parted, panting, looking as though she were about to kiss him – that the first photo taken of Iron Man and Black Widow with a camera phone emerged.

And everyone who saw the candid photo could clearly tell that the Black Widow was utterly in love with Iron Man.

* * *

They had gone back to S.H.I.E.L.D. to turn in the contents of the supercomputer that Natasha had obtained, and to be debriefed. No one was injured, although Bruce had torn up his clothing again. Thor mentioned something about magical shapeshifting pants, and Bruce had laughed at first until realizing there was such a thing in Asgard. Then he wanted to know how some could be obtained.

Tony took Natasha home after that, and after a long hot shower they both collapsed into bed. Neither had an idea of the picture of them going viral until the next morning.

Natasha brought down coffee to Tony in the lab, and was about to harass him to come upstairs and have breakfast when she noticed that he seemed unusually perturbed.

"What's wrong?"

He held his hand out to her and she made her way over to him, setting down the coffee cup and then grasping his hand.

"I'm sorry," he said and indicated for her to see the monitor.

Still not understanding, she glanced up and then felt the heat rush to her face.

"It appears that superheroes really are like everyone else, and that they too can fall in love," a perky news anchor said, flashing her bleached white teeth at the camera. "Yesterday, the Avengers again managed to subdue a group of terrorists and this image was taken by a bystander's camera phone."

Behind the woman, was an enlarged picture of Tony in the Iron Man suit carrying her, with Natasha gazing up at him with a naked expression of love. It looked like they were about to kiss, though they hadn't.

"Is it a fling, or has Tony Stark finally found true love with the infamous Natasha Romanoff? A request for a comment by Tony Stark was not immediately returned."

"Mute," Tony said, and Jarvis immediately complied. He had received the request for a comment but had ignored it.

Natasha was horrified that she'd let her guard down so much that she had not even been aware of that look she had given him. For someone that had spent so long controlling herself and her emotions, it was appalling. Equally horrifying was the fact that someone had captured that moment and had broadcast it all over the news. She felt violated and exposed.

Tony looked at her vulnerable expression and silently cursed. The tabloids were going to have a field day with this. He himself was used to it, and had thrived on any sort of attention. Even stupid attention from rags and morons, though afterward he'd just ignore them. But he knew how fiercely private she was and he blamed himself for the picture. He should have taken her somewhere without so many people or should have immediately set her on her feet as if she were just another colleague.

"It's not your fault," she finally said. "You have nothing to apologize for. My cover's been blown for a… long time, now. It's not like I'd be able to go undercover again for anything. Face is too well recognized now." She smiled wryly.

Tony pulled her onto his lap and wrapped his arms around her. He still felt responsible and he was trying to figure out how much to pay the tabloids for an agreement to refuse to print any candid photos and to keep her out of any articles. The expense would be a drop in the bucket and would be worthwhile to keep some semblance of privacy.

She put her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes, focusing on the warmth of his body and the strength of his arms around her. It would do no good to be upset about this, so she would just have to let it go.

It felt safe down in the lab with him. Quiet, save for the faint hum from the arc reactor and the computers.

Tony held her against him, silently marveling at the protective instincts that this small woman awakened in him. He didn't care what people said or thought about him, but the idea that they were embarrassing her or making their relationship out to be some sort of sleazy affair caused his temper to snap.

He'd had plenty of those in the past, plenty of one night stands with actresses and models and other beautiful women who interested him for a few hours or a few days, but who he ultimately tired of and discarded without looking back.

Tony kissed Natasha's forehead, a little overwhelmed by how tender he felt toward her.

She opened her eyes. "It was only a matter of time. There had already been speculation because I am your personal assistant and live with you. And when you called me your girlfriend in front of the press…"

"I know. They just hadn't yet caught us unaware." He sighed. "Tash… I wreck your life. Why do you put up with me?"

"Because I love you," she said simply, cupping his cheek in one delicate hand. She leaned up slightly, kissing him slowly.

"I love you too," he said, exhaling the words in a rush.

"And also because you are _fantastic_ in bed. The best I've ever had." It was a risk to give him factual information that would add to his already over inflated ego.

He grinned widely. "The _best_? Really?" And looked so proud of himself that she had to hide a smile by biting her lip.

"Yes, really."

He ran his hand through her hair and twisted a long curl around his finger playfully. "Well, my dear, let me show that I can be the best even if we're nowhere _near_ a bed."

And she laughed softly, feeling the weight that had settled on her chest (when she'd learned that her emotions for Tony Stark were on her sleeve for the entire world to see) lifting.


	14. You ever think about marriage?

It was a hot night and when Tony suggested that they go out into the pool, Natasha had readily agreed. She was still in the pool now, leaning forward into the wall with her arms on the ledge, watching him as he made them drinks.

"You ever think about marriage?" he asked her casually.

She blinked and raised an eyebrow at his back. "You're kidding me, right?"

"Humor me." He turned around to face her and walked over, bending to hand her her drink.

"No, I don't think of marriage. That's for normal people, who work 9-5 jobs, and don't kill other people for a living."

"You don't just kill people for a living."

"That's just semantics." She sipped her drink.

Tony sat down, dropping his legs into the pool. He tilted his head, gazing at her with incredibly dark eyes. "You've _never_ thought about it?"

She let out a little huff. "When I was a child, maybe, because that's what little girls do when they're in that in between stage between being princesses and thinking boys are gross." She tucked back a lock of her hair behind her ear. "What's with the question, anyway? You can't honestly tell me you've thought of marriage."

He smiled and shrugged, sipping his own drink. "What makes you say that?"

"Uh, the fact that I worked in your legal department so I know for a fact you had a team of lawyers constantly rebuffing attempts from women claiming to be pregnant with your child or that they have had your child. Granted, the women became suspiciously silent and stopped pursuing the matter when a paternity test was requested. And I also know that, unlike with other rich high profile men, they weren't terribly concerned with constructing a prenuptial agreement because they didn't seem to believe that a marriage would ever arise."

He made a dismissive gesture. "It's true the stupid claims of pregnancy and my supposed children came up every now and then. I never took them seriously because I'm _very_ careful and wouldn't agree to anything until there was proof from a paternity test. Which never came back positive for me as the father. But that's all old news…"

Natasha looked up at him sharply, as she connected his question and why he seemed so subdued because of her answers. " _You_ want to marry _me_?"

"Well… yeah."

"This is your marriage proposal?"

Tony laughed. "Of course not! Natasha, please. If I were to propose to you, it wouldn't be lame like this. I guess I just wanted to know and I have your answer. I can't say I really blame you." He smiled but it was a pained smile that broke her heart.

"I'd say yes."

"What?"

"If you were to ask me to marry you. You know, properly. I would say yes."

"You don't have to just say that."

"I'm not." She hoisted herself out of the pool to sit beside him. "I hadn't thought about marriage with you. Now I have. And the truth is… I don't want to imagine my life without you in it." She was a survivor. She could live without him, she didn't need anyone – but she _wanted_ him in her life.

Tony grinned at her and pulled her against him, kissing her deeply. It was exhilarating and frightening, that she had the power to break him.

But it was no less than the power he had over her.

* * *

Natasha had told Tony once that birthdays had stopped being celebrated for her when her parents had been killed, and that she didn't really care about it or receiving gifts because it just wasn't a day that mattered.

Tony disagreed. She mattered to him; therefore her birthday mattered to him.

He had convinced her to join the other Avengers and their assorted significant others at a restaurant for dinner and drinks, and then afterwards make an appearance at a Halloween charity ball that was sponsored by Stark Industries. The proceeds would go toward college scholarships for disadvantaged youth that showed an aptitude for math and/or science.

It had taken quite a bit of wheedling from him, but she had finally agreed to dress up in costume and had gone as a Black Swan ballerina. He himself had dressed as a mob boss from the 1920s and she admitted to herself that it looked perfect on him, the slightly tilted hat adding to his considerable charm.

To her surprise, the team members had given her birthday gifts. She had not expected that from them and it made her realize that she truly did have friends. Although she enjoyed receiving new guns and knives, the gift she liked the most from her friends was a tiny, delicate black widow jeweled pendant on a necklace from Steve and Sharon.

Tony had declined to give her her present in public, which of course made everyone assume that it would probably be something sexual.

They had put in a brief appearance at the charity ball, and though Tony allowed photographs to be taken of them he refused to comment on their relationship other than reiterating that she was his girlfriend.

On the car ride home, Natasha stretched and stifled a yawn.

"Tired?" he asked, glancing at her.

"A little. It was nice, though. I had a good time. Much better than staying at home yet pretending to not be home to avoid children demanding candy."

He chuckled. "Kids have long since given up trying to approach my house."

"You couldn't hear the bell down in your lab?"

"Normally, I wouldn't be home. But if I was, no, I wouldn't bother to get up. Jarvis would tell them to get away and if they got any trick ideas he'd scold them and they'd take off. One kid screamed and said it was God watching them. They ran like hell." He laughed.

She smirked, visualizing that. "Halloween wasn't celebrated when I was a child. If only it were that easy, to scare away monsters by wearing a mask."

"Bruce could probably do a pretty good job of that, no mask needed. He just needs to hulk out. Fury could go as a pirate… All he needs is a peg leg and a parrot."

"Be nice," she admonished him, but couldn't help but laugh.

He gave her an innocent look and pulled into the garage. Natasha got out of the car and headed upstairs with him. She began to go toward the staircase, to go to the bedroom, but Tony tugged lightly on her hand.

"Come outside with me," he said. "Let me just get your present first."

"You don't want to change first?"

"Why bother? It's not like I won't get you out of those clothes, anyway," he pointed out reasonably.

"Very classy, Tony." She gave him a look and went outside.

He smiled, not the slightest bit remorseful. "I try."

Natasha went outside and sat in one of the cushioned patio chairs. It wasn't quite a full moon, but it still looked incredibly bright against the clear cloudless sky. She leaned back and had to admit, the view at night was beautiful. Then again, the view during the day was beautiful as well. She could hear the soothing sound of the waves hitting the shore down below and she smiled to herself, carefully removing the tiara from her hair.

Tony came back out, holding a bottle of chilled champagne in one hand and two glasses in the other along with a little gift bag with ribbons for handles.

"Here's your birthday present," he announced, dropping the gift bag into her lap while he opened the bottle of champagne and poured them each a glass. The bag was heavier than it looked and she wondered what was inside.

"You didn't have to get me anything," she said, opening the bag and pulling out the tissue paper.

"I know I didn't. I wanted to." He watched as her eyes widened and she pulled out a small, beautifully ornate gold Faberge egg decorated with tiny rubies, diamonds, and sapphires.

"Is it…?"

"Yes. An original Imperial Russian Easter egg, one that was created for your ancestors. It's one of the lost ones… I spent months searching for it and finally found it. It's the Nécessaire Egg."

Natasha looked fascinated, running her fingertips over the ornate design. "It's so beautiful. I knew of them of course… have seen pictures but have never touched one before."

"It's yours. They should all be rightfully yours." He had plans to buy as many as he could for her from the collectors and current owners.

"Thank you." She smiled and leaned over to kiss him.

"You didn't think that was your only present, did you? The eggs had surprises in them. Open it up to see yours."

She gave him an amused look. "It's the Nécessaire Egg. The surprise inside was thought to be a woman's diamond encrusted manicure set." But when she lifted the delicate lit to remove half of the egg, what was inside was not a manicure set.

It was a platinum ring, with a princess cut diamond and baguette cut rubies set around the band with tiny engravings, sitting nestled on a tiny folded up piece of red satin.

"Tony…?"

"I thought so many times of how I was going to do this. I wanted to do it in front of… _everyone_. Because I love you, because I'm proud you're with me and want everyone, anyone, to know. But that would have been more about me and my love of the limelight. You are private and so… here we are, just the two of us." He paused, then continued. "I'll never be a saint. I'm trying to be a good man but I'm not ever going to stop being a smartass and I won't be able to keep myself from saying the first things that come to mind. What's tact?" He chuckled. "But I promise you this, Natasha. I'll always stand beside you, I won't ever break your trust or be disloyal, and I will never, ever leave you behind. No matter what the mission, I will go after you and bring you back to me. You're my teammate, my partner, and… and I want you to be my wife. Will you marry me?"

"I—" She drew her breath in and laughed, leaning to wrap her arms around him. "Yes, I'll marry you! But are you sure? Are you sure to want to marry someone like me? I'm damaged, I'm dark, and I've done so many terrible things—" She didn't want him to regret her one day, to be ashamed of her.

"Doesn't matter. That's in the past. You're my future. That's all I care about." He stroked her cheek, then pulled her into a tight embrace. "We're both damaged, Tash, so who better than us to understand each other?"

She kissed him hard, almost aggressively, then pulled back. "Put it on?"

Tony smiled and plucked the ring out of the egg, carefully sliding it onto her finger. He kissed her hand. "You really said yes," he said wonderingly.

"Don't tell me you had your doubts." She grinned and picked up her champagne glass, clinking it against his before taking a sip.

"Maybe a little," he admitted, drinking from his own glass. "I do have one more thing to ask of you, though, before we start the celebrating."

"Anything." She slid onto his lap and her lips were on his neck, making him forget his question for a moment. He groaned.

"What was your question?" she prompted.

He caressed her curves and found his voice. "Oh, right. Will you let me be the one to tell Fury about our news? I want to record his reaction because I'm sure it's going to be _priceless_."

"If by "priceless" you mean he's going to think you're playing a terrible joke on him…" She laughed and shrugged. "Go right ahead."

He grinned wickedly. "You are going to be an amazing Mrs. Stark."

"Why can't you be Mr. Romanov?"

He stared. "Um…"

"I'm going to love making you speechless for the rest of our lives," she said sweetly.

He smirked and scooped her up to take inside.

_The rest of our lives._

He liked the sound of that.


	15. Do you think I am making a mistake?

Natasha knew it was foolish, but she could not stop looking at her ring. She had never liked wearing rings before. Their weight felt odd and gave her an unpleasant almost tickling sensation on her slim fingers. It also became pointless to wear rings because when she was working in uniform, she wore fingerless gloves. Judging from past experience, she should have disliked wearing her engagement ring.

Instead, however, she was reluctant to take it off.

Sitting at her office at S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, she found her gaze straying from her computer screen in order to glance down at her ring and rub the pads of her fingers over the diamond, tiny prongs pressing into her skin. Her lips curved into a slight smile when she saw the tiny engraved T2. Tony and Tash certainly suited them better than Anthony and Natalia.

He was not the first man who had asked to marry her.

He was, however, the only one to whom she had ever said 'yes.'

There was a sharp knock at her door and she glanced up. "Come in."

Clint opened the door and walked into the office, easing it shut behind him. He looked around the room briefly, more out of habit. Natasha's office was as expressionless as her face, and there was not a single thing inside that revealed anything personal about the individual that worked there.

Yet the ring on her finger revealed _everything_.

"Hi," she greeted him.

"Hey." He sat down across from her. "You got something you want to tell me?"

Natasha nodded. "Tony and I are getting married." The words came out, tasted foreign on her tongue. A part of her could not actually believe that it was going to happen.

Clint watched her carefully, he who for so long had been her only friend. "Are you… sure you know what you're doing?" His words were carefully void of any judgmental tone.

"Do you think I am making a mistake?"

A smile tugged briefly at the corners of his mouth – typical spies, he thought, tiptoeing around the issue and answering a question with a question, without disclosing what one truly thought.

"What do you think?"

"I think I'd better actually answer, because we can do the back-and-forth question thing all damn day." Natasha smirked at him, a glint of amusement in her eyes. "I…" She looked down at her desk, then lifted her head to look at him head on. "I love him. I know he's a flawed man, but not as bad as he thinks. Not as bad as _I_ once thought. I know there's always a chance of a marriage failing – a pretty high chance, actually, if you go by the statistics. But the way he makes me feel… I don't know what kind of wife I'll be. But I want to try."

"We've lived in the shadows, the darkness for so long that we either forget… or we never knew, what it's like to live in the light." And Stark's presence was blazing, blinding.

Natasha was silent a moment, unable to tell him how Tony made her often feel as though she was burning up – but not in a way that frightened her. Tony effortlessly melted through her stubborn defenses. He made her feel as though she was alive, and for someone who had walked through the last few past years of her life feeling as though she was numb and already dead inside, that was something beautiful and amazing he had given her.

"I'm going to have a hard time thinking of you as Natasha Stark," Clint said. "But if that's what you want, if he's who you choose… then I'll support you, Tasha. But if he _ever_ hurts you…"

"If he ever hurts me, you'll have to wait in line behind me." She smiled.

"Steve's already…" he trailed off.

Her eyes widened, as she did not miss his meaning. "He's already warned him?"

"Yup. Tony was not the slightest bit impressed until I pointed out to him he isn't _always_ going to be in the suit, and just look at all the damage Steve's done to those huge punching bags. That sure made him pause, though admittedly, just for a few seconds."

Natasha couldn't help but laugh. She'd formed a tight friendship with Steve, and they were mutually protective of one another. Something like that would have bothered the old Natasha, but she was aware that he looked out for her on the battlefield because he cared about her – and because he knew she was doing the same for him. It was not a matter of him doubting her abilities or competence. She may have been small and the only woman on the team, but she could certainly hold her own and Steve admired that about her.

"I guess neither one of us is spared," she mused. "You guys worry he'll hurt me, his friends worry I'm out to betray him and steal his money or something."

"I know you better than that, Tash." Clint stood up. "Congratulations. You deserve to be happy, after all the hell you've been through." He was the only one that could see the change, from the icy hopeless girl he had been sent out to kill, but had been unable to do so, to the strong and brave woman that sat before him.

She smiled freely now, and that was because of Stark.

"Thank you. We'll let everyone know when we've settled on a date."

"Have fun with that. If anyone would be a groomzilla, it's Tony." He opened the door and walked out, grinning when he heard Natasha's answering groan of agreement.

* * *

Pepper walked into Tony's house nervously. He had called and asked her to meet him there because he had something he wanted to tell her. Having worked with Tony as long as she had, her mind immediately went to several horrible possibilities.

True, he was Natasha's responsibility now and she no longer had to cater to his every whim and request. However, Pepper still cared and worried about him. It was hard not to, with the news reporting on the exploits of the Avengers. Oftentimes, Happy would be watching the news to see what was going on while Pepper would be frantically texting Tony to ask if he was all right.

More often than not, the worst he had to deal with was bumps and scrapes but it was not easy to be friends with a superhero. In her heart of hearts, she was in a way relieved that their romantic relationship had not worked out because she was not sure she would have been able to take seeing the man she was in love with risk his life so much.

"Tony?" she called.

"Yeah, I'm here," he answered as he dashed up the stairs from the lab, Jarvis having alerted him to her arrival. "How you doing, Pepper?"

"Um, I'm fine. What did you want to talk to me about?"

He gestured for her to have a seat and she strode over to the couch, settling down.

"Tony, it's all right," she blurted out. "Whatever happened, I'm going to help you out. You're going to be okay."

Tony stared at her, obviously confused. "Pepper… thanks, but there's nothing wrong with me."

"But you said you had something to tell me. And we sat down for it."

"I know. I did. I do. It's nothing horrible. I just wanted to tell you before the damn reporters got a whiff of it." Then he smiled, and he looked the happiest she had ever seen him. "I asked Natasha to marry me, and she accepted."

Her eyes widened and she let out a laugh that was part surprise and part relief. "You're getting married…. You're only getting married." She laughed again and dropped her head into her hand briefly. "Oh, god, Tony, here and I thought it would be a repeat of when you were dying."

"Not dying. Well, only my bachelorhood is but I've been on those Most Eligible lists long enough, don't you think?"

"Definitely." She lifted her head and smiled at him. "Tony, congratulations! I'm so happy for you." She leaned forward and hugged him.

He patted her back lightly. "Thanks. I was a little worried… I know you don't like her."

Pepper sat back. "I didn't at first," she admitted. "She lied to you – to all of us – and I just didn't think we could ever trust her. She's also so dangerous. But she took a bullet for you and you've… you've stopped drinking so much. I don't know _how_ , but somehow she is good for you."

"Believe me, I was angry with her for a long time for the deception, too. It was only after I began to think of _why_ I was so mad…" he trailed off.

"You've forgiven her?"

"Yeah. It was her job, she didn't do it to be malicious or hurt me."

She nodded and was quiet a moment. "Tony… I have to ask. Are you going to have her sign a prenuptial agreement?"

He sighed. "She wants to do it, and my lawyers are going to flip their shit if I don't agree to it. But honestly, I don't want that. Whatever we accumulate together during marriage, if we get a divorce she _should_ get half. And anyway, I don't care about the money." He looked at her, expression serious. "I know the stats, and I don't want it to ever have to come to that. I will do everything I can to make a marriage work with her."

"You really do love her."

"She makes me want things I ridiculed before. And she makes me want something I never really had before."

"A family," Pepper said softly, and when he quickly looked away she reached out to touch his shoulder. "Once we were all the other had, but that isn't true anymore. I'm so happy for you, Tony. I hate that you have to go out and put yourself in danger, but she's a tough woman. She's going to drag you back each time and I am so thankful for that."

"Me too. Believe me."

Jarvis announced Natasha's presence and shortly after Natasha came up the stairs from the garage holding a paper grocery bag. "Tony, I got you the lamb skewers you like and… Oh, hi, Pepper." She smiled at the other woman.

Pepper returned the smile. "Hi, Natasha. Tony told me your big news – congratulations! Let's see the ring."

Shifting the bag to one hip, Natasha held out her left hand while Pepper exclaimed over the beautiful ring.

Tony sat back, content. "Tash, is there enough in there for dinner for four? You should call Happy to come join us," he told Pepper once Natasha confirmed there was enough food.

Pepper smiled. "That would be great." She called Happy, and then hung up a minute later. "He's on his way. Natasha, let me help you make dinner."

"All right. Thanks, Pepper." Natasha stopped to kiss Tony, then flashed him a smile and headed to the kitchen with Pepper.

Tony smiled to himself, listening to the two women talk about wedding possibilities.

Pepper was right. He _did_ have a family now.


	16. I'm not going to put you away in a box for your safety.

Sometimes Natasha thought that she was a fortunate woman to have befriended the other Avengers team members. Clint was already her friend, and for a very long time had been her only true friend. She could have befriended the other S.H.I.E.L.D. agents she worked with on various assignments, but although she was polite and could work with anyone, she had not been (and truthfully, still was not) what one would call warm and approachable.

There was a reason for that, of course.

If you kept people away from you, you would not hurt when you lost them. Or if they betrayed you. (Or if you had to betray them – though she was determined to never do that again.)

Natasha had been upset by Phil Coulson's death, but not only because he had been murdered. In their line of work, it was almost expected that none of them would make it to old age and die serenely in their sleep, leaving behind a legacy of children and grandchildren.

She had been upset because she _hadn't_ known the other agent well, and though she'd grieved for the loss of a good man she also mourned the loss of someone who now could never be a friend. Like the others, she also felt as though she had let him down by being unable to save his life.

Tony's persistence wore down her defenses, but now she had to live with the constant fear that she would lose him. If not by some alien, mutant, or other creature than to a human with a grudge and a gun or a bomb or any number of other weapons. Him being injured or lost or _something_ would not have surprised her.

So it was with complete and utter shock, that she received the news that Sharon Carter had been killed while on assignment overseas. Sharon was the first real girl friend Natasha had made, and she was going to be the maid of honor in her wedding.

Stricken, she made her quickly to Steve's office. The door was open but the desk was upturned, papers scattered around a computer screen and keyboard on the floor. A phone was laying off its hook, the way the cord twisted around itself reminding her of the shape of a noose.

"Steve—"

"The mission was botched. Someone sold them out," he said, not looking at her. "There was an explosion, impossible for there to have been survivors." In his hand was a framed picture of Sharon, both sides cracked as though someone had clutched it very hard.

"I'm so sorry," she said, wishing the words weren't so trite but not knowing what else to say. Her eyes were stinging and burning her with the urge to weep. But no tears came, because she had realized a long time ago she had simply lost the ability to cry.

"She's not dead."

He was in denial, she thought, and it wasn't a surprise. It was one of the stages of grief after all. "Steve," she said, her voice gentle. "Steve, you said it yourself… impossible for there to have been survivors."

When he answered her, his voice was quiet but intense. "We _are_ impossible! I'm still 25 even though I was born in 1918. We have a thunder god helping us not to mention a green monster." He turned to her and his eyes were red and wet, but there was no evidence of mindless grief. "I love her, Natasha. I was going to ask her to marry me. I was going to and I waited because I worried she wouldn't want to, and now… and now… She's not dead. I don't believe it. I won't believe it until I see the…" _Remains_. He couldn't say it.

"What does Fury think?"

"He thinks what you probably do: that I'm not accepting Sharon's death and need _counseling_."

Natasha let out a breath. "So we probably won't be able to use S.H.I.E.L.D. resources for this."

"What?" That was not the response he had been expecting.

She walked up to him, gaze serious. "I'm your friend, Steve. I know you need to do this, and I don't want you going out there alone. Whatever we find, I'm going to be right there with you. Because there may come a day when it's Tony and… and..." she trailed off, unable to finish.

He understood. If it was Tony, she wouldn't believe he was dead either and no force in the world could prevent her from going after him.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"You don't have anything to thank me for. We might get in trouble but…" She shrugged. "We have vacation time we haven't used so whatever."

"You said we couldn't use S.H.I.E.L.D. resources, and you're right. But we still need transportation to Serbia."

She smiled slightly. "And I just happen to have a fiancé who has his very own jet. Let me call him."

* * *

When Tony received the phone call from Natasha, he was actually speechless with shock and then sadness quickly followed. He didn't hesitate in arranging for his jet to take them over to Europe, though. He ended the board meeting with Stark Industries abruptly and just shook his head when Pepper looked at him questioningly.

He made it to his jet in record time and shortly after, Natasha and Steve arrived. His fiancée looked calm and composed, as always. Steve looked better than Tony had imagined; if he had been told Natasha was dead he had no doubt he himself would be a raving lunatic.

"It's fueling up and then we can go," Tony told them, bending to kiss Natasha.

She returned it and twined her arm around his, leaning her head against his shoulder. And when he felt the slight tremble of her body, he knew the composure was just a façade.

She was grieving, too.

"Thank you for doing this," Steve told him, unable to stand still, shifting restlessly.

Tony shook his head. "Come on… of course I'd help. I'm doing it because… I like Sharon." He was careful to use the present tense; no sense in crushing the other man's hope no matter how miniscule the chances of finding her alive. "Because if it was me, I'd go after Tash and if it _is_ me one day in the future, I want you to back me up. Even if it's against S.H.I.E.L.D. orders. And finally… because – and I'll deny it if you repeat this to anyone – because you're a good man. And you are a friend to us."

Despite the gravity of the situation, Steve gave him a faint smile. "Hey, that's the nicest thing you've said… ever."

"Well, don't get _used_ to it."

Natasha shook her head with a small smile. She was thankful Tony hadn't used his brutal honesty to make the other man feel worse about things. Tony wasn't cruel but he could be tactless and thoughtless.

A worker came by and nodded respectfully at Tony. "Sir, the jet's all ready for you."

"Thank you." Tony picked up his portable suit. "Come on, we've got a long flight ahead of us."

None of them slept on the flight. They used the time instead to retrace what they knew of Sharon's last movements, and that of the other two agents with her. Tony used her last known coordinates and sent a prototype of a tiny drone he had recently created to scan for him and upload images to Jarvis.

"The intel that Fury received showed the building was blown up?"

"Yeah, the bomb is what blew out the communications." Steve's jaw tightened then. "Apparently after no contact for 24 hours a fresh team was deployed and that's what they found."

"All right." Tony input Sharon's data into the computer and sent it to the drone. "How long ago was that?"

"It's been four, almost five days now," Natasha supplied.

Tony didn't look up from the computer screen. It would have been better if they'd been called in immediately after contact was lost. Four days provided too much time for someone to be taken away.

"They've found bones among the um… rubble. None of it matches Sharon but they said if she was very close to the explosion it may have vaporized…" Steve's voice broke.

"Did it match the other two agents?"

"One did. The other was found shot in a car when he was doing surveillance."

Tony frowned, having a bad feeling. "Sharon's a gorgeous blonde."

Steve gave him a look. "I _know_ what she looks like. What does that have to do with—"

"You said earlier that the mission was botched and someone sold them out. What if someone wanted to literally _sell_ her?" Natasha interrupted. "Her job thinks she's dead, informs her family, with no way to communicate home she might as well be dead. No one would come for her."

Steve still didn't look like he understood what Natasha meant by selling Sharon and Tony was reluctant to enlighten him. Natasha bit her lip and was about to explain, when Jarvis spoke up.

"Possible match for Agent Carter found, sir. The height, weight, and other dimensions appear to fit."

"Upload the images from the infrared scanning," Tony commanded. They wouldn't be crystal clear images like photographs but it would at least give an idea of what was going on. Up on the screen, a series of images popped out revealing a vaguely feminine figure on the floor with four other larger figures surrounding her.

"Where is she?" Steve said, his gaze on the images.

Jarvis supplied an address and Natasha input it into a portable GPS.

"Tony… suit up and go on ahead. You can fly there faster than we can get there by borrowing transportation. If it is her…" Steve met Tony's gaze. "Just get her out of there, please."

Tony suited up without a smartass remark. "I'll be in radio contact in case anything comes up but—"

"We'll be right behind you," Natasha assured him.

Tony's helmet snapped on and he flew on ahead. He figured there was simply no point in even pretending to be stealthy while wearing a red and gold armored suit that looked like it was powered by rockets. He crashed through the door, and almost laughed when the men shouted in surprise and responded by shooting him with tiny bullets. He responded by blasting them back.

"Sharon?" he called, and the bound woman on the floor stirred with a muffled moan. Her mouth was taped shut but her hair covered her face. He picked her up and her head fell back limply, matted hair sliding away from her face. He felt a rush of relief.

Her face was bruised and swollen but it was Sharon.

"Steve? I've got her."

* * *

Natasha sat back on the jet, rubbing her eyes. They were stinging once more, but then it was difficult to not feel emotional after seeing how Steve had reacted toward having Sharon back. He hadn't let go of her since Tony had handed her over. Once the tape had been carefully peeled off and her hands free, she had – despite being disoriented from being drugged and deprived of food for days – tried to explain what happened but Steve had gently hushed her. They were sitting in the back now, Sharon sleeping against his chest as he held her protectively.

Tony sat down beside her, suit safely in its case. "She needs medical care. I did as much as I could with the first aid kit."

"Thank you for this," she says softly. "Someone went to a great deal of trouble to make S.H.I.E.L.D. think Sharon was dead."

"It may be more about Steve than S.H.I.E.L.D.," Tony said after a moment of thought.

"I suspect the same," she admits. "But now's not the time to burden them. We'll have plenty of time to investigate this thoroughly later." She was silent a moment. "You could walk away from this if you wanted… I've been in for so long… you've never asked me to stop being a field agent."

"Why would I?" he asked, genuinely surprised. "I know you enjoy your work. Do I worry about you? Hell yes. But I'm not going to put you away in a box for your safety. You'd wither away. And anyway, it's not my place to dictate what you want to do with your career." He reached for her hand. "I'm not walking away, either. I can't. It would be cowardly and lazy to do so."

"Every once in a while, I wish I was normal," she confessed. Even though she wasn't exactly certain what normal was, and could only imagine what it may have been like to grow up without it being decided that she would be a spy and assassin.

"Normal's boring. Why would I want that when I can boast about my incredibly hot Russian ex-spy, soon-to-be wife?"

She let out a laugh. "It's just… hard. The more you gain, the more you can lose."

He tilted her chin gently. "So you fight harder to keep it. You won't lose me, Tash. I swear it. It won't always be easy or sunshine, but you're stuck with me."

Her lips curved. "I can think of worse fates."

"Yeah, just think, you could have married your douchebag ex, Daredevil."

"Tony!"

He hid a grin and kissed her ear. "Sorry. But it's true. That he's a douchebag, I mean."

She sighed and then gave him an indulgent smile.

Yes, she had a lot more to lose now, but it also meant that she was going to fight harder than ever to protect what she loved. She had survived Red Room, maybe not completely whole, but enough to move forward, and she wasn't going to let anything take her future with Tony away from her.


	17. A battlefield of taffeta and silk and organza?

"I don't want to do this. There's got to be some other way around this…" Natasha said, head pillowed on her arms, frowning as she looked at Tony. Over his shoulder, she could see the clear blue sky – it was another beautiful day in Malibu.

Tony chuckled, looking incredibly amused. "Nope, no way around it. You don't have a choice. Man up, Romanova." He stretched out on his bed then reached to trace a fingertip along her cheek.

She scowled. "It's not funny. I would rather be shooting aliens in Manhattan again. Or fighting back lizard people, like last week. At least that was the battlefield, and I knew how to handle myself."

"So think of it as another kind of battlefield."

"A battlefield of taffeta and silk and organza?" she asked. "No. _No_. There's just nothing that's going to make wedding dress shopping fun."

He laughed again. "I can't believe how much you hate shopping. With as many clothes and shoes as you have…"

"I prefer to think of that as armor for my different roles – agent, personal assistant, fiancée…"

"You're so damaged."

"Tell me something I don't know!" She smirked and rolled over onto her back. "You, on the other hand… I'm surprised you don't try to dress me," she teased.

"Please. I'm a lot of things but a controlling jackass isn't one of them. Besides, you don't dress poorly."

"Oh? Unlike the people in those People of Walmart pictures someone mysteriously forwarded to Thor and that _I_ had to explain to him what it was?"

He blinked at her with a perfectly innocent expression. Internally, he laughed, remembering how the Asgardian had bellowed in horror for all of S.H.I.E.L.D. to hear. " _What is this_?"

She snorted. "Oh, like I buy that."

"It'll be painless. The appointment at the wedding boutique is under Sharon's name, a nondisclosure agreement has been signed, and they're going to do their best to find you a dress that makes you happy." He leaned over to kiss her slowly. "Go get ready, babe. Much as I love seeing you naked, Sharon's probably not going to be as thrilled to see you like this when she comes to pick you up."

"You _promise_ you're not going to torment Steve while we're out dress shopping?"

"When have I ever tormented Steve?"

"Um, I believe the first time ever was when you and the guys took him to that strip club soon after our first Avengers mission, only you lied and said it was a show of dancers to get him there?"

"Hey, those women _did_ dance, and boy, did they put on a show," Tony said, his tone completely reasonable.

" _Tony_ ," she growled.

"I promise." He held up his hand. "Scout's honor."

"You were never a scout." She smirked and rolled out of bed, heading for the bathroom.

He enjoyed the view of her bare backside, and grinned. "Nah. By the time I was old enough for scouts, I was too involved in my scientific pursuits and boarding school came soon after."

Natasha paused in the doorway to the bathroom. His tone was casual, but her heart clenched as she remembered the little he'd told her about his family.

He must have been a very brilliant, but very lonely little boy.

And then a thought that startled her popped into her head: she wondered what a child of hers and Tony's would be like.

* * *

Physically, Sharon had completely recovered from the ordeal of a few weeks ago. But Natasha knew that some wounds were not visible on one's skin, so after some friendly chatter in the car she looked at her friend.

"How… have you been doing?"

Sharon glanced at her briefly, and then turned back to the road. "Okay," she said after a moment of reflection. "Steve's been staying over with me. It's not that I'm afraid to be by myself or that I'm afraid of the dark now or anything. It's just… not every night, but sometimes I do have nightmares. And it's just nice to have someone be there with you."

"Staying over? So it's moved to that level?"

Sharon blushed and that was all the answer that was needed.

Natasha grinned. "You're fortunate to have him."

"I know." She smiled, but her gaze turned distant for a moment. "If you hadn't come out there when you did… I'm not sure I'd have ever been able to escape. I still don't understand how…"

"HQ still hasn't determined the source of the leak?"

"Not as far as I know, but they are closing in on it." She glanced over her shoulder and changed lanes. "It just doesn't make any sense. It should have been an easy assignment – well, as easy as they can be when they involve an arms dealer that has his sights on setting up shop in the US. Young had been in deep undercover for the past year… everything we had showed that he was a trusted member of the organization."

"Information must have been intercepted somehow."

"It's possible. There also could be…" she trailed off, not wanting to say it.

"A mole," Natasha finished for her. "Someone that intentionally sabotaged the mission to try to get you all killed. That's also possible, though with such a small op it doesn't make much sense. But it just seemed to me that maybe the objective was to… get you out of the way, to harm Steve."

Sharon pulled into the boutique parking lot, and eased the SUV into a parking spot. "I don't want that to be true," she said, not turning the car off yet. "I was engaged once, you know. We were high school sweethearts, as sappy as that sounds. I went off to college and he went into the military, but the plan was to get married after I finished school. People could be… so mean. They couldn't believe I'd be with someone like him. He wasn't conventionally handsome, true, but he was the kindest person I'd ever known. And he was mine."

"What happened?"

She looked down at her lap, at the left hand that was bare of any rings. "He didn't make it back," she said simply, but tears slid down her cheeks. "And how was I supposed to go on without him, when since we were teenagers we'd known we were going to get married and have a life together? Except he'd made me promise that if something happened to him, that I would keep going. I al..always keep my promises." She wiped her tears away with the back of her hand.

"I'm sorry," Natasha said gently.

"Me, too. That was… god, seven years ago. I'm satisfied with the career choices I've made, but on a personal level… I never was interested in anyone again until I got to know Steve." She looked over at her, with a mixture of agony and fear on her lovely face. "I have to know who set this into motion, because if they're still out there I'm not safe – which means _Steve_ isn't safe." And she was afraid of getting that phone call again, letting her know the person she loved most had been killed.

"We'll figure it out," she assured her. "Think about it, if there is a mole then they've probably being laying low this entire time, but eventually they'll have to make contact with their boss to regroup and figure out what to do next. Once that happens, we'll track them like hunters do to vermin."

Sharon nodded and blinked to clear her vision. "Thank goodness for waterproof mascara," she said lightly. "I'm sorry to go all weeping willow on you – this is not like me. Come on, let's go inside and find our dresses." She slid the key out of the ignition.

"It's all right. You were tortured for days." Natasha slid out of the car, and shut the door behind her. Her tone turned dark and so low Sharon didn't even hear her over the sound of traffic as she added, "You never forget your first."

* * *

"What's the deal?" Tony asked, slightly annoyed. "I thought we'd agreed to meet up at the game, so why do I have to come into HQ? And why are you working on a Saturday, anyway?"

"You ask a lot of questions," Steve told him, shutting the door to his office. "I've been busy with trying to figure out what went wrong in Serbia."

"Please tell me in that meantime you've finally slept with Sharon after months and months and months of—"

"That's none of your business and it hasn't been _that_ long. Would you shut up for a minute and let me finish?" Steve gave him an exasperated look, then continued. "I found out when I got here that yesterday we were able to intercept a phone call, from an unknown number of course, though by the time we tracked the cell it had been burned up in a small explosion. But the recording of the call was finally unscrambled today."

"Okay…" Tony looked at him. "So what's the problem? We have a voice, we can use the voice recognition software I enhanced to find that psycho bitch after Tash. Then it's only a matter of tracking them down."

"We did use it." Steve paused before playing the short phone call and added, "I've run it and rerun it because I don't… I can't believe what it's telling us."

A woman's voice, familiar, drifted from the speakers, the tone low and cold. "It _failed_ , and that was not my fault. I gave you everything and they still fucked it up. He's on high alert and isn't letting the bitch out of his sight now. Contact me to let me know what we're supposed to do now."

The computer beeped a moment later and reported in a flat tone, "Voice recognition confirmed. Match, 100%, Natalia Romanova."

Tony's blood went cold, and for what felt like the first time in his life, he couldn't think of what to say.


	18. You look as though you're expecting the mannequins to begin aiming Glocks at you.

Natasha and Sharon were sitting together on a couch, waiting for the consultant to return with a few dresses that fit the parameters that she had been given. The consultant had been thrilled to learn that there was no upper budget limit to the price of the wedding dress.

As if Tony Stark would ever be stingy with his bride.

Natasha looked around the bridal boutique with such wariness that it made Sharon laugh.

"What are you doing? You look as though you're expecting the mannequins to begin aiming Glocks at you."

"Ha ha." Natasha smiled wryly. "This is just… so surreal for me, you know. I never really thought that I would ever get married. Not that I ever wanted it before. I viewed marriage as something unnecessary at best, and at worst tedious and confining."

"I don't think it's that way with the right person. Maybe I'm just a romantic, though. I know people fall out of love and that marriage doesn't work out for everyone. But I just want to believe that there are happy endings for people."

Natasha smiled slightly and then checked her phone for the umpteenth time.

"You sure have been looking at your phone a lot," Sharon commented.

"Yeah. I just called someone yesterday and am waiting for a call back or at least a text. No such luck, though."

"Well, sometimes people get busy and it is the weekend."

"That's true."

The dress consultant came back with a rack of six dresses. "All right, here we are, Miss Romanova. Three in off white, three in ivory, all romantic inspired with lace."

Natasha watched her show each dress on the rack and reacted without much enthusiasm until she came to the last one in ivory. It was lacy, sleeveless, with a v-neckline and she thought it looked elegant, in an almost old Hollywood glamour way.

Sharon noticed how Natasha studied the dress. "Go try it on," she suggested. "If you don't like it, Melissa can bring out more for you to look at."

Melissa nodded her agreement. "Yes, of course. If these first ones aren't to your liking, I'll select others for you to look over."

"All right." Natasha took the dress and went into the fitting room that Melissa unlocked for her. She stepped out of her heels and shed her blouse and jeans. Carefully, she unzipped the dress and put it on, zipping it back shut behind her. She looked at herself in the mirror, almost not recognizing the woman gazing back at her.

"I'm not playing dress up. This really is my life now," she whispered faintly to herself. She studied herself from all angles and then went back out front where Sharon was waiting.

"You look _beautiful_!" Sharon told her. "What do you think?"

Natasha smiled slowly. "I think I'll take it. Let's pick out your bridesmaid dress. I'm thinking red…"

* * *

Tony's first response to the possibility of his fiancée's betrayal was purely emotional. He felt as though someone had punched him in the stomach and his breath came out, small and sharp. As a child, when playing with an adult chemistry set, he had accidentally burned himself with one of the chemicals. His mother had rushed into the room when he'd begun screaming.

The burning feeling was similar, though instead of being localized to the back of his hand he felt it coursing through his entire body; he clenched his jaw shut to keep from shouting out.

After several moments of silence, the kneejerk emotions receded and he was able to think coherently again.

"I don't believe it," he said hoarsely, shaking his head. _Denial is more than just a river in Egypt_ , he told himself and had a bizarre urge to burst out laughing.

"You think I want to believe this?" Steve looked at him. "Natasha was the first one to befriend me. She's become like a sister to me." He remembered their disagreements about whether she was an older or little sister to him. He was older than her, but she had more life experience. She was also the one who had encouraged him to ask Sharon out on a date. If it weren't for her, he'd probably _still_ be secretly pining away for Sharon. Natasha couldn't be a traitor. She just couldn't.

Despite his best intentions, Tony felt doubts creeping into his mind. She was, and admitted to being, an _excellent_ liar. He well-remembered the sense of betrayal when he'd found out "Natalie" was Agent Romanova, and how she'd looked at him without a shred of remorse at the donut store. A beautiful ice queen, emotionless and untouchable.

_I'm not going to apologize for doing my job_ , she'd told him later when he'd tried to elicit – all right, _demanded_ – an apology from her.

Was that was he was – a job?

He hadn't been able to stop thinking about her since he first met her, but had she played him like a fiddle this entire time? Was it all just an act, the vulnerability and hesitation to enter a relationship with him? The kisses and caresses, whispered promises and muffled sounds of pleasure?

If that was the case, she was the best fucking actress in the world because he fell for it hook, line, and sinker.

He felt sick.

"Tony?" Steve waved his hand in front of his face and Tony snapped out of his dark thoughts. "Hello?"

"This can't be true. She's admitted to having been a spy and assassin in the past for Red Room in Russia, and to being a mercenary when she went off on her own. After Clint brought her on board to S.H.I.E.L.D., she's… she's…" His voice faltered and he met Steve's gaze, seeing his own horror reflected in the other man's expression as they simultaneously thought of something.

Steve clenched his teeth but he finally said what both of them were thinking but could not bring themselves to say. "Sleeper agent?"

"It doesn't make sense! If you were the target, you were still a popsicle when she entered S.H.I.E.L.D. There was no way they could have known that years later you'd be discovered, awaken, and that we'd all be brought together."

"You're right," he said after a moment. "And we're already acting as if it's a fact that she's betrayed us. And we _don't_ know that for a fact. Technology can make mistakes, right?"

"Right," Tony said, but he didn't really think that his technology would make such a mistake. He slumped down into the chair opposite from the desk and both men sat there in silence.

"Fury know?" Tony finally asked.

"Not yet. I wanted to show you first, in case… in case there was something wrong with the voice recognition software." He wanted so badly to believe it was some sort of glitch, because he didn't want to suspect his friend of being a traitor. Especially not one directly involved in what had happened to his girlfriend.

Tony needed information in order to begin computing what to do next. "What's the protocol when an agent is suspected of being a traitor?"

Steve sighed. "Bring them in for an interrogation, launch an investigation. They're off duty and taken into custody until either they're cleared or… it's confirmed that they are a traitor."

It was what Tony had expected.

"The girls are… shopping for a wedding dress and bridesmaid dress right now," he told Steve, even though the other man already knew.

He nodded, gaze pensive. "When I… when I was told that Sharon had been killed, it was worse than when I first woke up in this time. But again, I felt like I'd lost everything. And it was worse than what happened with Peggy, because…" he trailed off. Because with Peggy, what had been lost was the promise of a real, first relationship with a first class lady. With Sharon, he actually _had_ a relationship with her and had begun to imagine a life together with her. Kids, a dog, the white picket fence around a home of their own.

"I haven't lost her yet," Tony said, almost angrily. "We're not even sure—"

"You don't understand," Steve interrupted. "That's not what I'm trying to say. Fury thought I was having trouble accepting that my girlfriend had died. He thought I was in denial, and that I should get counseling for it. There was no purpose to going to Europe and just further torment myself, he said. _Natasha_ was the one who said she would be going with me, and who offered to call you to use your jet to get there. If we hadn't done that, we wouldn't have ever found Sharon. So why – if she's the one responsible for causing Sharon's 'death' to begin with – would she do that?"

"Because her actions with us would have just undone the work she was doing as a mole," Tony finished, feeling like an idiot. He should have immediately have determined that, but the emotional blow of thinking Natasha was playing him had hit harder than he had thought. "Well, look at that, you _are_ more than just brawn."

"Thanks." Steve frowned. "Wait, did you just insult me by saying you thought I had no brains?"

"Let's not make this about you, Captain," Tony deadpanned. He felt his phone vibrate and retrieved it from his pocket, glancing at the screen. He had a new text message and when he opened it, saw that it was from Natasha.

"It's Tash," he said, reading the message. "She… she found a wedding dress she liked and picked out a maid of honor dress with Sharon." It was so incongruous, receiving an innocent text message about wedding plans while discussing the seeming betrayal of his wife-to-be.

"Tell her they both need to get to HQ right now," Steve said after a moment. "Natasha needs to find out what's happening."

Tony looked at him. "She isn't a traitor. She wouldn't hurt you or Sharon."

"That's what I think too," Steve agreed. "But the evidence… it doesn't look good, Tony. Either way, we need to find out what's going on. If someone's framing her, like we think, we need to find out who – and why."

Tony nodded but had a hard time making himself type out the reply.

* * *

Sharon headed back to the car with Natasha after she had paid the deposits on the dresses. She unlocked the car and both women got inside. Natasha pulled out her phone and read over Tony's text message.

"That the response you were waiting for, from the person you called yesterday?" Sharon asked, noticing that Natasha looked somber.

"No… it's actually from Tony." She looked at her. "He said Steve wants us to go to S.H.I.E.L.D. because there's something they want to discuss with me."

Sharon nodded. "All right. We can do that." She pulled out of the parking spot and drove to headquarters, idly wondering what was so important that the guys had decided to skip the game and go to work instead.


	19. Despite my healthy ego and self-esteem… sometimes I can't quite believe that you've really chosen to be with me.

Tony looked up when Natasha and Sharon walked into Steve's office. He was still sitting down, but at least had stopped slumping. Natasha looked over at him and smiled, leaning down to kiss him. He accepted the kiss, feeling the softness of her lips and tasting her. It was real, she was real, and any doubt that he might have had began to slowly dissolve.

"Do I need to stay for this?" Sharon asked Steve, kissing him in greeting.

"It's probably best that you do," he said, looking at her gently. He closed his door and leaned back against it for a moment. "Yesterday we were able to intercept a phone call from someone we believe was involved in what happened to Sharon. I was able to run it through the voice recognition software that Tony enhanced for S.H.I.E.L.D."

"That's great," Natasha said. "Was it able to find a match?"

"Yes…"

Natasha waited for him to finish but he said nothing further. She noticed that he and Tony were exchanging odd looks. "Well, what did it say? Who's it a match to?"

Steve opened his mouth to reply but Tony beat him to the punch.

"You."

"What?" Sharon asked in disbelief as Natasha stared at her fiancé, blinking as she tried to comprehend what he had just said.

"That's not possible," Natasha said. "I made a call yesterday but it was to… it was to an old friend and it was about the wedding."

"Could the software have had a glitch?" Sharon asked Tony.

"It's… possible but unlikely." He ran his hand through his hair.

Both men were still acting out of character and Natasha felt a stab of betrayal. "You think I was involved in this," she said quietly.

"Were you?" Tony asked bluntly, staring at her to gauge her reaction.

"No! How could you ask me that?" she snapped, stung. "I've done a lot of bad things in my life but that _stopped_ when I joined S.H.I.E.L.D. I don't have a lot of friends and I would _never_ hurt the ones I do have."

"The evidence doesn't look good, Tash," Steve said, almost apologetically.

"She helped rescue me, so why would she have had a hand in getting rid of me in the first place?" Sharon asked.

"That's what we figured, too." Tony nodded, then looked at Natasha. "I'm sorry. I had to ask."

"I… know." She smiled mirthlessly. "Because of what I did in the past, I understand why you'd have doubts." Despite that understanding, it still hurt… but she was not going to dump that on him. "What did the recording say, anyway?"

Steve went over to his computer to play it.

Natasha's voice came from the speakers: "It _failed_ , and that was not my fault. I gave you everything and they still fucked it up. He's on high alert and isn't letting the bitch out of his sight now. Contact me to let me know what we're supposed to do now."

"I wonder what I did to piss someone off so much," Sharon said, stunned to be referred to as a bitch when she couldn't even recall what she'd done to warrant that.

"Aside from screwing the Boy Wonder?" Tony asked, and when Steve blushed he smirked. "Aha! I knew it!"

"Do you mind?" Steve gave him an annoyed look. "We're in the middle of something important!"

Natasha wrinkled her brow. It was disconcerting to hear what appeared to be her voice saying those things, and even she wondered for a moment whether she had done something while controlled or if there was some other explanation. "Does Fury know about this?"

"No, not yet. We wanted to talk to you first." Steve looked at her. "Someone's gone to a lot of trouble to make you look like a mole."

"I have a lot of enemies," she said simply. "It could be anyone. But it appears that whoever orchestrated this is targeting you _and_ me, so it could narrow things down."

"We've got to tell Fury," Sharon said softly. "There are protocols to follow…"

"She's right. I have to be taken into custody and interrogated, and then an investigation is going to begin." Natasha let out a little bitter laugh. She shouldn't have been surprised. It was too good to be true that she would be able to do something as easy and normal as plan a wedding without something coming along and screwing it all up.

Tony shifted uneasily, not liking the sound of that. "Let's try to keep it internal, to only the other Avengers. We'll investigate this… and we'll clear your name, Tash."

"Why don't Sharon and I go talk to Fury now?" Steve suggested. "You two can stay here. It'll give you a chance to… talk."

Natasha nodded and sat down beside Tony.

Sharon gave them both a sympathetic look. "You're not alone. We're going to get out of this mess together," she reassured them, then left the office with Steve.

Natasha wished she could be as optimistic.

* * *

Tony looked at the beautiful woman sitting beside him, still as mysterious as when he first met her as an agent. She looked composed, but a little sad and he was furious that someone had done this to her. He was also furious with himself for having doubted her. She had said she was not upset, and that appeared to be the case, but that was probably only because she was unaware of what he'd thought about her.

Natasha looked straight ahead at the wall behind Steve's desk. The gap between the chairs she and Tony were sitting in must have been about six inches but it felt the size of the Grand Canyon.

She hated it, but couldn't think of what to say that wasn't awkward.

"Tash?"

She glanced at him.

"I love you. You're the most amazing, exciting woman that I've ever met. And despite my healthy ego and self-esteem… sometimes I can't quite believe that you've really chosen to be with me," he confessed. "So any doubts are my own crap, not yours."

"I love you, too. I would never do anything to intentionally hurt you." She reached out tentatively, touching his cheek gently. "I don't consider myself to be a good person but I do try so hard to make up for all the terrible things that I have done. The person that I was before… I wouldn't have hesitated to sell out someone to the highest bidder."

He turned, capturing her hand in his and then kissing her fingers and then her palm. "You're not that person anymore. Just like I'm not the selfish drunk whose company sold weapons to people that hurt and killed innocents."

"No, you aren't that person anymore," she agreed. Then despite the gravity of the situation, she smiled slightly. "At least I picked out a wedding dress before having to be treated like a criminal."

"You're not a criminal. Don't think that way. We're going to all work together to figure out what happened and to prove that you had nothing to do with it." He was quiet a moment and then looked at her. "You said you did make a call yesterday. Was that the only call you made?"

Natasha shook her head. "Yes. It's in my call log on the phone. I could give you the number to verify it but… I don't think you're going to be too happy about it."

"What? Why?"

"Because I made the call to my ex. I just wanted to be the one to tell him that I was getting married, rather than him finding out from a newspaper or gossip rag. I left him a message but he hasn't called me back yet."

He frowned. "This ex isn't Murdock, is it?"

"No. We're not really on speaking terms since you landed on his girlfriend's car in the Iron Man suit, and I wouldn't apologize for you."

"It's not as if I deliberately landed on the car," he said, but couldn't help but feel a little wicked sense of amusement. "I landed on it after being flung by the monster we were fighting. That was a total – albeit for them, unfortunate – coincidence. And insurance took care of it."

She smirked slightly. "Anyway, the ex I called is… someone with a complicated history."

"I'll call him so that we can show that person you contacted is uninvolved in Sharon's kidnapping. What's his name?"

"James Barnes."

Tony didn't recognize the name so he shrugged it off. "All right. Anything else I need to know?"

She shook her head. "I don't think so. You've read my file as well as I've read yours. There isn't anything that would be a big surprise."

"Are they going to put in a… holding cell or something?"

"Probably." She gave him a wry smile. "I'm a very dangerous woman. Merc Monthly rated me as one of the deadliest women in the world."

Her tone sounded sarcastic so he wasn't sure if she was kidding or if that was a real magazine. "Did they have a centerfold on you? If so, I'll have to go find a copy."

She laughed and leaned over to kiss him. Her green eyes became thoughtful and for a moment she looked vulnerable.

"This isn't going to ruin us, is it? I mean, you still… you still want to marry me?"

"Nothing is going to keep us from walking down the aisle, Tash. I know you, inside and out, and you're worth loving. Worth marrying."

Her eyes stung, because that was the kindest thing anyone had ever told her when it didn't involve the bedroom – that she was worth having. Not all of her relationships had been bad ones, but this was the first time where it appeared that she wouldn't end up with a broken heart, wondering what went wrong.

It was funny, that after her last bad breakup she had decided that relationships just didn't work out for her, and that she was done trying. Then she had received her next assignment… to go undercover at Stark Industries as Natalie Rushman.

"Tony, I…" she trailed off when the door opened and she expected to see Steve but instead it was Fury.

He looked at her, the man that had agreed to take a chance on her and hire her on as an agent. His expression was solemn but not unkind. She still wondered if he was regretting his decision now.

"Natasha… I'm sorry, but you know that we have procedures to follow. You're going to have to come with me so we can have a talk about what happened."

She nodded and gave Tony a gentle kiss on his cheek as a goodbye. She stood up but he took her hand firmly in his and when she looked back, his dark eyes were intense.

"I'm going, too."

"Stark—"

Tony interrupted him. "She's going to be my wife, and she's not alone in this. I'm _not_ leaving her so fuck your procedures."

Fury sighed, knowing that when Tony had his mind made up he was the most obnoxious and stubborn man on the planet, second only to when Tony did not have his mind made up. "Fine. But you will sit there and keep quiet. Do you think you can do that?"

"Nope. Let's go."


	20. Clint saw something in me worth saving.

Natasha sat down across from Fury, keeping her hands flat on the table between them. There were tiny electrodes on her skin that were connected by thin wires to a recording device that was transmitting physiological information to a computer that would analyze whether or not she was lying.

She'd removed her weapons and had to be further patted down by Sharon, who had murmured an apology. Ordinarily, Tony would have made a joke about her being groped by a hot blonde but he remained tensely silent.

He sat beside her now. Fury had wanted him to go onto the other side of the two-way mirror, but he had refused. It was typical of Stark to be so pigheaded and stubborn, Fury thought. It would have been his preference to not have him here at all. Not to protect him, but to protect Natasha. She would, as an interrogator, know the sorts of questions that he was going to ask and it might have been less painful and embarrassing if Tony were not present to hear her answers.

But Natasha had not objected to Tony's presence.

"This interview is being recorded, so let's go ahead and get started. What is your full name?" Fury asked.

Tony rolled his eyes at the stupid question, but Natasha's expression didn't so much as flicker with irritation.

"Natalia Alianovna Romanova."

"What other names have you gone by?"

"Natasha Romanova, Natasha Romanoff, Nadine Roman, Laura Matthers, Natalie Rushman, Nancy Rushman, Natalia Shostakova… there are others but those have been the most notable ones."

"Where you born?"

"St. Petersburg, Russia on October 31."

"Any living family?"

"No. I was an only child and my parents were murdered when I was young. As far as I know, I had no other relatives since my parents were only children as well."

"Fury, come on," Tony burst out. "You already know this shit, so why are you asking?"

Fury didn't bother to look at him. "As I told you before, we have procedures to follow. If you have a problem with that, the door is right behind you."

"Tony, please," Natasha said quietly. "Just let him do his job."

He narrowed his eyes as if he wanted to argue, but then looked at his fiancée and nodded. "All right."

"What agency trained you?"

Natasha's gaze slid down to her hands on the table, as dark memories she preferred to keep suppressed rose to the surface of her mind. "Red Room, a special training program in Russia that recruited girls in childhood and used extensive resources to educate them in academics, seduction, espionage, and assassination."

"Have you worked for anyone else?"

"When I left Red Room, I was a mercenary for a short period of time. In that time, I accepted whatever jobs paid the most amount of money. After being a mercenary, I was able to join S.H.I.E.L.D. on a work visa and I have been here ever since."

Fury nodded. It was as Tony had said, all of this he knew because it was he that had interviewed Natasha – then, a mere teenager – after Barton had brought her back from Europe alive instead of in a body bag.

"Have you ever betrayed anyone?"

Natasha paused and then looked up, gazing at him with solemn green eyes. "Yes. Many times. It was the nature of the job, to gain trust and retrieve information or kill someone."

"What about employers?"

"Yes," she said again. "My last assignment for Red Room was to go in and kill a family. The father had been involved in the mafia and had crossed the wrong people. I was supposed to kill the mother and father and bring back the child to recruit her for Red Room. I killed her parents first."

Tony was silent, listening to her. Not for the first time he felt a strong surge of anger against the heartless people who had murdered her parents, destroyed her childhood, and taken her innocence. His parents may have been distant but in their own way had cared, and he had never lacked for any material things. It hadn't been the best childhood, but it was at least _a_ childhood.

Beside her, she heard Tony shifting but she couldn't bring herself to look at him. She kept her gaze focused squarely on Fury as she continued speaking.

"I went to look for her and she had hidden from me underneath her bed. Just like… just like I had hid when men came into my house and killed my parents. I had… I had had my memory tampered with several times and had forgotten what they had done to me but in that moment, the familiarity of the scenario was stronger than the memory suppressors and I remembered everything."

Natasha fell silent, remembering the horror and disgust she felt when she realized that she was about to do to an innocent child exactly what had been done to her. She felt a hand settle on her thigh and when she looked over at Tony, his expression was gentle without a hit of condemnation or repulsion.

She took in a deep breath and offered him a faint smile. "I failed to complete my assignment. I took the child and I ran."

"That's my girl," he murmured and she felt a tiny flare of warmth spread through her body.

"I spent some time as a mercenary to make quick money and Clint eventually caught up with me." She did not admit that by that point she was so tired of her horrible, tainted existence that she welcomed the thought of being put down. That is how she viewed herself – as an animal that should have been put down for the safety of others.

Her gaze lifted and she stared hard at Fury. "Clint saw something in me worth saving. I don't know what it was or why he did, but I would never and _have_ never betrayed that trust. He thought I could be better than what I was and I have spent nearly every moment of my life since then trying to prove it to everyone." Including herself.

Fury and Tony both heard the ring of truth in her words, but it was not enough. Fury sighed and opened up the file that Steve had quickly compiled for him.

"What do you know about the situation with Sharon in Serbia?"

"Not much. I helped Steve to go there so he could have some closure. I hadn't thought there was a great chance that someone had wanted us to think she was dead. Then again, I also would not have thought a man could survive frozen for 70 years or that aliens would attack Earth so… let's just say I've since then prepared myself for suspension of belief."

"The voice on the cell phone call presents a problem, Natasha. It is indisputably your voice. The chances of it being a computer error are slim to nothing. Stark may be a blowhard but his tech is almost the best in the world."

"Okay, first of all – I am not a blowhard, I'm just almost always right and I know it. Second, my tech is not _almost_ , it _is_ the best."

Fury gave him a droll stare. "And thank you for proving my point. Moving on… As I said, it is a problem. To clear you, it has to be proven that it was not your voice on the phone. We have the time that the call was made." He turned the file around to show Natasha the inside.

She looked down at the time. "I was in the shower."

"We were in the shower," Tony corrected. "I was with her the entire evening and night, Fury. If she'd made a call, Jarvis would have heard." He took out his handheld computer and had Jarvis look through the logs. "The only call she made was to James Barnes, and that was about the wedding."

"Why doesn't it surprise me there's no privacy in your house, Stark? Although in this case, that's a good thing."

Natasha's brow furrowed. "It is a good thing. It means that I truly didn't do it – I worried that since I've been brainwashed in the past…" she trailed off. "So if I didn't do it, and it's not a computer glitch, what other options are there?"

"Clone… shapeshifter… a being with the ability to mimic voices… unfortunately, there's more than one possibility. And unfortunately, you're going to have to sit this one out while the rest of the team works to clear your name and find out why you're being framed."

She looked at him. "Do you think I had anything to do with what happened?"

"No," he admitted. "But I can't go by gut instinct alone. All we've established is that you didn't make the call. We still don't know who was involved, or why."

"We've got to work backward, then," Tony said. "I can use Jarvis to cross references names that have been associated with Natasha, Steve, and Sharon and all the possible permutations."

"Do it, then." Fury nodded. "Make use of the lab and have Bruce help you."

"Never would have figured that one out on my own," Tony said, rolling his eyes. He looked over at Natasha and reached out to cradle her cheek in his hand. "I'm going to put my occasional bouts of insomnia and workaholicism to good use and figure this out."

Natasha nodded and leaned up to kiss him, relieved when he responded immediately, thankful that he hadn't changed toward her. She watched him leave and then turned back to Fury.

"You can remove the electrodes. Stay here while I figure out where to put you," he told her, and once more she nodded. Then he too walked out and she was left alone with her thoughts, and whoever was on the other side of the two-way mirror.

She sighed softly, trying not to feel suffocated or irritated by the loud ticking of the clock on the wall. Peeling out the electrodes only took a minute and then she had nothing to do. It seemed like hours but was only 30 minutes later that Tony came back into the room, with a strange expression.

"Did you find some names?"

"I did. One of them is… interesting. Your ex, James?"

Natasha nodded.

"This him?" Tony pulled out a photograph from a file, old and yellowed with age.

She looked at it and recognized Steve, and standing beside him was James. "Yes, that's him. How did…?"

"James Buchanan Barnes, born in Brooklyn in 1918, called Bucky by his best friend… Steve Rogers. Tash, I knew you liked older men, but…"

Natasha didn't respond. She was too busy staring down at the picture, at the handsome face of the man she had not seen in a few years but who most certainly was _not_ almost 100 years old.

"He wasn't involved in this," she finally said, head aching with trying to figure how exactly she'd managed to have a relationship with someone born in 1918.

"You sure about that?"

She bit her lip and slowly shook her head.

At this point, she wasn't sure of anything.


	21. It's hard pretending to be stupid.

Fury looked over the names that Tony found and immediately crossed one out. Tony looked over at him and scowled.

"Seriously? You don't think the guy that was supposed to have died in 1943 but somehow is alive and the same age he was then, might be involved in this?"

"When you broke into S.H.I.E.L.D.'s databases and servers, you found everything on there. Not everything is put on there, however. Barnes' activities are on a need to know basis and all you need to know is that he's codenamed Winter Soldier and has been doing black ops for S.H.I.E.L.D. for quite some time. We know exactly where he was during the time that Sharon was kidnapped, who he was communicating with, and what he has been doing recently. So as much as it might grate you that Natasha has a friendly relationship with an ex, he was not involved in this."

Tony stood silently, not knowing what irritated him more. That Fury was matter-of-fact about keeping information somewhere hidden where even he was unable to access it, or that he actually felt the unfamiliar tinge of jealousy. He was self-confident in almost every area but one… there was a small part of him that did not truly feel that he deserved a woman like Natasha. It wasn't something he consciously thought of often, but it was still present and when it was triggered, he grew very uncomfortable.

It would have made some people laugh, others would not have believed it, but behind the ego and the arrogance he was still a man. Though in all honesty, he felt that he had been blindly going through life, feeling entitled to the admiration and accolades he received, until the Ten Rings had captured him.

Yinsen was the catalyst for him wanting to be a better man to the public. Natasha was a reason to be a better man in his personal life.

"What else haven't you told us?" Tony finally asked, his tone dark.

"I don't keep things from you to get my jollies, Stark. I know you're a man who likes to know everything, but some things really are none of your concern."

"It involves Natasha, so it _is_ my concern."

"If you're this much of a pain in the ass now, I don't even want to imagine you after the two of you are married," Fury said under his breath, running his fingers over the list of names. "There… that one. Alexei Shoskatov is someone she was briefly involved with in Russia. He was supposed to be their version of Captain America but as with all knock-offs, was found lacking. I'm bringing Barnes in. He spent decades in Russia and still has enough contacts throughout Russia and Europe to be of use in untangling this mess." Though he didn't show it, he was amused that Tony's expression turned progressively more mulish as he spoke.

"Fine," he snapped. "I've put out a fake memo explaining that Natasha is isolated in custody pending the investigation of her as a traitor. I've also leaked info that makes it seem as though we suspect she truly is responsible."

Fury nodded his approval. "Good. That way the mole won't know that we suspect otherwise."

"It's hard pretending to be stupid," Tony muttered.

"Welcome to life in espionage." Fury sat back. "Barnes is in New York City so he'll hopefully by here by this evening."

"Wonderful." Tony gave him a fake smile. "Can't wait to meet him."

* * *

Natasha sat down on the narrow bed, trying to read the book that Tony had brought for her, along with clothes and toiletries. There was layer after layer of security and she was so deep in the bowels of the base that only the Avengers – and Fury – could access her. It might have been scary, but she had become accustomed to being alone a long time ago. It wasn't so different than how she'd been treated when Clint had first brought her in, and they were taking their sweet time evaluating her to see whether she was a sleeper agent or if she truly had turned over a new leaf.

She had been allowed to keep her engagement ring on and she looked down at it. Although Tony had never said how much it cost, she was certain it was expensive because he'd never skimp on something so important. But to her, the ring was priceless because he had designed it himself and picked out the jewels. That sort of painstaking effort and detail from a man who only a few years prior could not even bother to remember his own social security number touched her deeply.

Though she was a woman who could be silent and still for long periods of time, she found herself twisting her ring around her finger and drawing some sort of comfort from the action.

Natasha looked up when there was a beeping sound and then the door to her room slid open. She wasn't surprised to see that it was Steve, since Tony had left just a few minutes ago and she thought it was too soon for him to have returned.

" _How_ is it possible?" he blurted out. It was unusual for him to be so impolite as to give neither greeting nor ask her how she was doing, and she realized how much the knowledge that his best friend might be alive after all these years was affecting him.

"I don't know, Steve." She marked her page and closed the book, setting it beside her. "We met going undercover in Russia as a married couple to obtain information for S.H.I.E.L.D. and um… I fell in love with him. There was this darkness in him that… matched my own." She looked up at him.

"Darkness?" He sat down beside her, the small bed creaking beneath him. "He was always the stronger one, who protected me, even when I didn't want him to. All the ladies loved him because he was charming and fun. I wanted to be like him for a long time but I just couldn't. He was my brother. I saw him fall from a train, Natasha, and he fell so far down I couldn't even see when he… hit. There's no way he could have survived that." He still felt horror and guilt over that, still sometimes woke up from the nightmare of reliving it. It helped, having Sharon beside him to comfort him, but the painful memories were still there.

"We never spoke of his past," she said quietly. "I never wanted to speak of mine, either, so I was never curious. I figured that we both had our secrets and old wounds. He's one of the best assassins I've ever seen."

"No. He was a soldier and a sniper, but…." He fell silent, unable to ask the question that was gnawing at him. If somehow Bucky had managed to survive all these years, why hadn't he looked for him? The Avengers had been plastered all over the media after their first mission and it was pretty easy to get hold of them, judging by he fan mail he'd received. He was touched by the letters from kids that looked up to him, but horrified to receive women's panties. _What do they expect me to do with them?_ he'd asked, though Natasha had fortunately prevented Tony from giving a detailed reply.

"I don't know what to tell you," she said gently. "I am as confused as you are. You were frozen for all that time and you were able to survive because of the super soldier serum. "

"I was the only one that received the serum." A horrible thought occurred to him and he looked slightly ill. "What if someone's been pretending to be him all this time?"

"Anything is possible, but why choose him to imitate? He was around long before you were ever unfrozen, so if this was to screw with your mind, the timing is very off." Not for the first time, she realized how cold and unnatural she was. Wouldn't a normal woman be upset to think of her ex as a shapeshifter or something else? Her personal feelings mattered little here, though. She only wanted to find out what happened.

"You're right." He appreciated her cool logic, and it suddenly occurred to him that that was probably why she and Tony were able to get along so well.

Only, unlike Tony, she had tact.

"The rest of S.H.I.E.L.D. thinks I'm a traitor?" she asked, breaking the stretch of silence between them.

"Yes."

"Good. Then it's as we've planned. Hopefully the mole gets sloppy in their excitement."

"And leaves a clearer trail for us to follow," he agrees. "Sharon's staying on base until we sort this out, and is also having limited contact with others. I almost lost her once, I can't… I can't let anything happen to her."

"Sharon's an able agent, Steve."

"I know. But I love her. I can't not try to protect her. Just like Tony can't not protect you, even if you are able to knock him down when he accidentally startles you from behind."

Natasha looked ever so faintly embarrassed about that. "I've gotten better. Once I fell asleep in the lab and he was trying to be sweet by picking me up to take upstairs. I punched him in the face before I fully woke up."

"You didn't." He started to laugh.

"I did. I felt horrible but he was so good-natured about it. He said it was his fault and that he should have been more careful of my reflexes." Speaking of him brought warmth to her tone and softened her face.

"He really loves you."

"I know. When this is over with, I want to move up the wedding. I don't want anything else screwing that up."

There was the sound of beeping as someone entered the code, and when the door opened Tony walked in. She immediately noticed that he looked tense and strained, but with everything going on that was to be expected.

"Your BFF is due to arrive at 4:30 p.m.," Tony informed Steve tersely.

Steve looked at him blankly. "My… what?"

"It stands for best friend forever," Natasha supplied. "I'm guessing he means James. Bucky."

"Give the lady a prize." Tony sat beside her, putting his hands on her shoulders and rubbing them gently. "Fury seems to think he'll be able to help us get more information on one we suspect may be behind all of this."

"Ohh." Steve was relieved the acronym was nothing perverted. One never knew with Tony.

"Who is it?" Natasha asked.

"Alexei Shoskatov. Fury said you had a brief relationship with him in Russia." Tony looked at her inquisitively.

"That was polite of him to put it that way. It was right before I left Red Room. I thought it was a secret relationship, but turns out he'd been given the stamp of approval and the long-term plan was that it was the initial development of a breeding program. Just one more reason why I wanted to escape."

Tony was stunned. "Jesus, Tash."

Steve set his jaw. "One day we're going to dismantle that program."

"Why not just burn it to the ground?" she asked, smiling wryly.

"I vote for that." Tony nodded.

"You two are so violent." Steve shook his head, slightly amused, and stood up. "I'll come and get you both when Bucky arrives. Looks like we need a lot of questions answered."

Natasha nodded, watching as he left. "Tony… I'm sorry about all of this."

"Why? I don't blame you. We'll get through this together."

She bit her lip. "And after it's all done, we'll get married?"

"Natasha, look at me." He cupped her jaw and looked into her eyes. "Yes. I've made a lot of mistakes in my life. But you are _not_ one of them."

She nodded slowly, and then gave him a tight hug, thinking that she would do everything possible to never make him regret loving her.

* * *

Steve waited anxiously for Bucky's arrival. He was both looking forward to it and dreading it. Questions ran through his mind, but the feeling he felt the strongest was a fragile thread of hope, of a connection to his past life here in the present.

The doors hissed open and the man that walked in physically resembled Bucky, but the dark and empty expression in his eyes was one he'd never seen before, not even when he had rescued him from Schmidt's HYDRA fortress.

"Bucky…?"

The man paused and turned to look at him, recognition dawning on his face. "Steve? Is that really you?"

No. It was all wrong. Bucky was born in Brooklyn, so why did he have a Russian accent?

"It's me. But it doesn't sound like you." Steve searched his face, trying to find some trace of the man that had been like a brother to him.

"I go by James now, but it's me. We met as kids when you began your long career in getting bullied." A ghost of smile crossed his face. "I stepped in and beat them up, and we became best friends." The smile faded. "A lot's happened since 1943, Steve. A _lot_." James scrubbed his hand over his face wearily.

"How did you survive? I thought you were dead. I saw you fall over! Why didn't you come and find me? I've been awake for a few years now – I didn't just thaw out yesterday!"

James looked away, not wanting to see the hurt on the man who had once been his best friend. "Like I said, a lot has changed. It was better that you remembered me the way I was, and that you didn't know what I've become. This isn't the place to talk about it, though. I'm here because tsarina's in trouble."

"What?"

"Natasha." He looked back at him. "She's no traitor."

"Are _you_?"

James flinched and the shadows returned to his eyes. He looked back at him, coldly. "I have contributed to her suffering, yes, but not once I was in control of my own mind. And not since I broke away from Russia. I need to see Fury, so let's get this over with." He walked away toward Fury's office, not looking back to see if Steve was following.

Steve did follow, but it took him a long moment because all he could do was mourn again the loss of his brother, and wonder who this stranger was that he had become.


	22. That was your fault my ass hit the horn.

_This is not going to go well_ , Natasha thought a split second before the door opened to reveal James Barnes. She felt Tony tense up beside her and she put her hand on his shoulder, a brief comforting gesture.

"Hello, James," she said, feeling a faint, involuntary bittersweet pang. Once, she had loved this man and though it had not worked out and she had no regrets, he still was one of very few that could with little effort evoke an emotional reaction from her.

"Natasha." He inclined his head, gaze sweeping from her to settle on Tony. For a moment he looked startled.

"What?" Tony asked, unable to keep the bite from his tone.

"You look like your father," James said, and it was Tony's turn to look startled. "Congratulations on your upcoming wedding," he added, and if he did not sound overjoyed he at least sounded quietly sincere.

"There's been a bit of a delay," Natasha said wryly. "But thank you."

Tony watched him with guarded dark eyes. "Yeah, thanks. So, you're not the one that's been fucking over Natasha?" He heard her let out a tiny sigh, but no reproach followed. By now, she knew him too well and his behavior was predictable to her.

James was silent a long moment. "I am guilty of hurting her," he finally admitted. "When I was brainwashed in Russia I helped train her to be an assassin."

Her eyes widened and she sat straight up. "What? That isn't true. We met when I was already grown and a member of S.H.I.E.L.D. We went undercover as a married couple in Venice, remember?"

"I do remember that. But that is not the first time we met. I met you when you were still a child." Unconsciously, his right hand moved across his body to rub at his left arm. "I was experimented upon, too. It wasn't like what Steve received. But it was enough to help me survive that fall I took into the snow. Some Russian operatives found me and the experiments continued. They created a new identity for me, made me as Russian as they were, into a spy and assassin. When they had no need of me, they put me in cryogenic sleep. Off and on, for decades. During one of my awakened periods that they sent me to Red Room to train the girl with the strongest potential to be a Black Widow."

"You taught a _child_ how to be a killer?" Tony asked, horror and disgust dripping from his voice.

What did it matter that he had not been truly aware or in control of his actions? He was still the one that had done those things. James nodded, his gaze on Natasha. "I could not tell you before. I didn't want you to hate me." Not that she could hate him more than he hated himself. Once he had regained his memories, he had gone a little mad trying to reconcile the honorable man he had been and that amoral killer he had been turned into.

Natasha's expression revealed not a shred of emotion. Her breathing came in and out steadily, and they might have been talking about the weather for all the interest she showed. "There was always something between us that prevented us from… that was it, wasn't it?"

He said nothing but he didn't have to, because she knew the answer was yes.

"How can you just stand there and—" Tony began but Natasha cut him off.

"Leave it alone. It's in the past, and we've got bigger issues to concern ourselves with." Her solemn gaze focused on James. "What do you know about the situation I am currently involved in?"

It was typical Natasha, to not let emotions keep her from the end goal. James didn't know if she'd forgiven him, or if she ever would. He was not sure he would ever know, to be honest. It would not matter if she did, because he did not think he would ever be able to forgive himself and everything he did now was to atone for his dark, blood drenched past.

Stark looked far less forgiving or interested in changing the subject and in a way, James was thankful for that. He may have appeared hotheaded and impulsive, but James had a feeling that the other man would do anything for Natasha and would not be cowed by her raising her walls and trying to keep him at a distance. She, who had had her life ripped apart before she was even old enough to attend school, deserved happiness.

"Alexei Shoskatov was supposed to be the Soviet's answer to Captain America," James said. "The serum was never quite right, and he was also one that was repeatedly used and then cryogenically stored in between uses. The next idea was to essentially… breed the strongest man to the strongest woman in the hopes that their genetic potential would unlock further information about how to improve the serum they did have. And so, Natasha was selected. Alexei pretended to romance you, and the hope was…" James trailed off.

Natasha's gaze was blank but her lips were tilted in a bitter smile. How utterly ironic that a spy was played, and it had never even occurred to her that it was a ruse. Alexei had been handsome, charismatic, and lively – a breath of life among the darkness and death she had learned to become accustomed. She had been a teenager and it was easy to excuse the stupidity, but she also remembered the excitement and awe that someone loved her.

 _Fool_ , she told herself harshly.

"How did you find out about his real intentions?" Tony asked.

"Ivan told me. I didn't believe him. I didn't want to believe him. So I decided to test it out and resisted sleeping with Alexei. I feigned modesty, made excuses about that time of the month… that sort of thing. He became impatient and I… planted a bug." She wasn't exactly proud of her actions, but she had grown uneasy and yet a (stupid) part of her still hoped Ivan had been wrong. "I heard enough," she said hoarsely. "That betrayal, along with my last mission at Red Room… I left."

"From what I was able to gather, Alexei was punished severely for his failure," James said. "He developed a hatred for you, Natasha, because he blames you for what happened to him. He was deemed useless and put back into cryogenic sleep. Everything changed once Steve woke up. There's renewed interest in the super soldier serum, but Steve isn't one they could just kidnap. I believe the intention was to take Sharon and keep her, then at a later time – when they had enough time to carefully develop a plan – would use her as a lure to get Steve to Eastern Europe."

Natasha narrowed her eyes at him. "There's more. What aren't you saying?"

"It doesn't concern you," James answered. "I have to tell those it does concern, and that will be hard enough."

"And trying to make Natasha look like a mole was payback for what he thinks she did to him?" Tony asked.

James nodded.

"So who _is_ the mole?"

"That I do not know. Fury is looking into it even as we speak."

* * *

"I hate sitting here and doing nothing," Natasha muttered, dropping her head into her hands.

She hadn't slept since all this had occurred, not really. She knew the detrimental effects of sleep deprivation but whenever she closed her eyes for more than a few moments, her mind raced and she felt exhausted but without the ability to let herself fall asleep. Tony was well acquainted with that sort of insomnia and he had been staying up with her, although she had been able to at least convince him to take a couple of hours and sleep. Neither of them was in sharp, shiny condition and as time passed they become more on edge.

"You're not doing nothing. You're part of a trap," Tony answered, his tone unusually calm. The role reversal had been unexpected, but she was hurting and in trouble and he had become her solid rock. In the past jokes had been made of how unreliable he was, and he was the first to admit it, but there were no jokes now and he was as obsessive about ending this as he was about working with any new tech he had developed.

"What do they think you're doing down here with a traitor, anyway?"

"Just because you're a "traitor" doesn't make you any less hot." He smirked at her, a flash of his old self shining through. "I imagine they think I've lost what few marbles I had left and am doing dirty, inappropriate things with you while Fury, who only has one eye, has it focused on the investigation."

She stared at him for a moment and began to laugh. It felt like she hadn't laughed in days, and that was probably true. They had all begun to blend together.

"Cell sex?" she asked, lips quirking up.

"Why not? At least there's more space than there was in the car. And is less noisy."

"That was your fault my ass hit the horn."

"And who set off the windshield wipers?"

"The same person that insisted on leaving the car on for the A/C, I imagine," Natasha responded innocently.

Tony laughed, putting his arm around her. "I knew you've got cabin fever," he murmured into her ear. "Just wait it out a little longer, Tash. Belinsky is being watched."

Natasha closed her eyes and nodded. "I know. I know."

Dr. Tania Belinsky, a neurosurgeon in S.H.I.E.L.D. who had worked for Russia and but had been born in Serbia. The pieces had not all been found yet, but there were enough to fit together to form a picture. Natasha almost felt pity for the woman, who was risking her career and her life for a man who had seduced her but was incapable of feeling deep emotion for her. Alexei could be so convincing, she remembered.

 _Was it worth it, Tania?_ she wondered. _Was it worth it to buy into whatever bullshit he was spewing, to turn your back against those who had given you a chance, a job, a future? To have had a hand in the deaths of at least two good agents, and to agree to the torture of Sharon Carter?_

She did not know a great deal about love, but she knew a few things. It blossomed in unexpected places, it made you want to be a better person, and it never asked you to destroy others. What was born in darkness and secrets and blood would only wither and die, because things cannot grow in poison.

Tony's phone went off and he pulled it out to look at the message. "She's made a call and it's being traced. Looks like we're going to get to play shadow after all."

Natasha's lips smiled but her eyes were ice cold.

 _Finally_ , she would be able to do something.


	23. Let's head out. Mr. American Pie's waiting for us.

Alexei Shoskatov looked up in irritation when a frantic knocking sounded at the door to his apartment, interrupting his solitude. He considered ignoring it, but when the knocking persisted he let out a small scoff and stood up. Glancing through the peephole revealed a familiar blonde woman, but he was not pleased to see her. He unlocked the door and opened it a few inches, staring at her.

"You're not supposed to be here," he informed her.

"Let me in!" Tania Belinsky's eyes were red rimmed and wild, her gaze that of a person being hunted.

"What happened?" he asked, reluctantly allowing her inside.

"They figured it out."

"That is impossible."

"Don't tell me what's impossible!" she flared at him. "You said that they would believe that she was a traitor, because of her disgusting history. But they didn't. They closed ranks and fooled us while they figured _everything_ out. What are…" she trailed off, her gaze sliding around the walls of his apartment.

Photographs of Natasha Romanova were pinned up to every piece of bare surface on the walls, and were scattered throughout the tables and couches save for one chair. Some were candid shots, others were from doing PR as the Black Widow or the demure Natalie Rushman, and still others were of her with Tony Stark. In the middle of one wall was the picture taken months ago, of Iron Man holding the Black Widow in his arms like a bride as she gazed up at him with love.

"This was never about Steve Rogers, was it?" Tania asked, face falling slack as she realized that she had never been anything more than a tool for his obsession with Natasha.

"I received my orders to take from him the person that meant the most to him," Alexei said calmly. "To use as bait for a later date. It was hoped that she would be pregnant so that the child could be… examined, but we were not so fortunate."

Her mouth went dry with horror. "I never agreed to having a baby be involved!"

He let out a sigh. "Tania… stop the self-righteous attitude. I may not have been completely honest with you about my organization's intentions, but you are an intelligent woman. You knew that at the very least Sharon Carter was going to be tortured and killed. You assisted us in that, and in framing Natasha using a voice modulator."

Tania was silent, acknowledging the truth. She still wasn't sure why she had agreed to do it. A part of her was resentful of all of the attention the Black Widow was receiving. It was nauseating to constantly overhear men speak of her beauty and seductiveness, and with equal awe discuss how absolutely lethal she was in a battle. Natasha had been a murderer and now it seems she would be rewarded – career advancement, close friends, and then she was going to marry the wealthy and powerful Tony Stark.

It wasn't that Natasha had ever been cruel to her. She actually doubted the other woman knew she even existed. But she had been at a low point in her life, and Alexei had appeared at exactly the right moment to tempt her into straying from S.H.I.E.L.D. She had not actually approved of what was going to be done to Agent Carter, but Alexei had justified as being necessary to unlock the secrets of the super soldier serum that America was being stingy about and hoarding. It was necessary so that Russia could have its own hero.

The end justified the means, did it not?

Bitterness seeped through her veins like poison as she raised her head and stared at her lover – no, _ex_ -lover.

"I never wanted this."

He shrugged slightly. "Whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep at night."

The crazed look returned to her eyes. "I haven't slept since I left America. She _knows_ , Alexei. She's coming."

"She's already here," a new voice said, husky and steely and cold, a split second before the door was kicked in.

Alexei reached for the gun under his seat while Tania screamed and ran back to the bedroom. Natasha strode inside past the broken door, eyes tracking Tania's movements before she turned back to Alexei.

"Hello, Natasha," he said calmly, gun pointed between her eyes. She looked as beautiful as ever, the long curls like dark blood against her pale skin, her curvy figure hugged by the skintight black S.H.I.E.L.D. suit.

"Alexei." She briefly looked at the pictures of herself, and yet her face did not betray a single emotion or thought.

"You brought me to do this."

"Really?" She quirked a brow up at him. "I brought you to this because I was tipped off to your true intentions and refused to sleep with you? Because when I _choose_ to have a child, it will be because I want a family, and not a weapon?"

He shrugged slightly. "I had an assignment. Did you expect me to be like Barnes and turn against my conditioning in order to try to win you over?"

Her gaze sharpened and she glared at him. "Don't talk about him. You could never hope to compare with him. All you are is a failure. The idea that even if Russia had the super soldier serum, that it would turn you into a hero is a joke. Steve was _already_ a hero. It augmented what was already there, maxed out his potential. You?" She laughed. "You're pathetic. Science, technology, magic… nothing can change that about you."

His skin flushed a dark, ugly red and he glared at her. "Oh, such inspiring words about the captain. Are you sleeping with him in addition to or at the same time as Stark?"

"Though these pictures indicate otherwise, what I do in my personal life is absolutely none of your business."

"Poor Natasha. Have you managed to convince yourself that you deserve a happy ending with Stark, despite the murders you've committed?"

Instead of answering, Natasha lunged for him. He shot at her but she moved so that the bullet only hit her suit, which was made out of a modified Kevlar. She felt the impact and knew she would bruise but before he could fire again she was on him and twisting his wrist with a sickening crack. He shouted, dropping the gun and swinging his other hand at her.

Since the Avengers had assembled, her favorite sparring partner had become Steve. He was the best one at hand-to-hand combat, aside from her. More often than not, they actually had a draw in a match because of his superior strength and her superior speed. Tony joked with her that she actually had the capability to kick Steve's ass, but that she held back because the super soldier had become a best friend and she was reluctant to hurt him.

Natasha had no such hesitations when it came to Alexei.

She leaned back to duck the swing, then shifted her weight to flip over him and land behind him. He turned, but too slowly, and the thick heel of her boot caught him squarely in the jaw. He spat blood at her a moment later, pulling out a knife from a hidden sheath with his uninjured, nondominant hand.

He sliced at her and she had to keep moving back to stay out of range. She realized that he was backing her into a corner and then moments later felt the wall at her back but instead of feeling frightened, she smiled. The next cut that came at her she blocked, pressed her back and arms into the wall for leverage, and jumped up high enough to wrap one leg around his neck. They both fell, his hands reaching to try to pry her off but then her other leg wrapped tightly. The knife fell from his limp fingers and suddenly she was tempted – _sorely_ tempted – to break his neck as he struggled to make her release her hold, hitting and punching her legs while cursing hoarsely.

There was the sound of heavy footsteps and then Tony in the Iron Man suit entered from the back, carrying an unconscious Tania slung over one shoulder.

"Tasha," he said, and even with his voice distorted because the helmet was on, it reached her and she blinked up at him.

The temptation to kill Alexei ebbed somewhat and she released him when he finally lost consciousness.

Tony lifted the visor of his helmet and looked around the walls and surfaces at the obsessive photographs taken of Natasha. "What… the… fuck?" he asked. "I changed my mind. You can kill him."

Natasha smirked at him as she snapped and tightened cuffs around Alexei's wrists and ankles, then went to do the same to Tania. "No. You were right. I'm not that person anymore."

"I know you're not, baby. Let's head out. Mr. American Pie's waiting for us." He lifted up Alexei with his other arm, and then walked out after Natasha. The clean/sweep team would be coming in soon to go over every scrap of paper and speck of dirt that was in the apartment, and he didn't care to stick around for that.

* * *

After Alexei and Tania were taken into custody, Tony and Natasha decided to not delay their wedding any further. Despite being one to usually go all out in public and with a love for being the center of attention, Tony agreed with Natasha to keep the wedding small and intimate. The only people invited were the other Avengers and their significant others, Pepper, Happy, Rhodey, and Fury. Even Thor had returned from Asgard with Lady Sif. Things with Jane Foster had not worked out, but the god of thunder and goddess of war looked happy together and he announced that they were now betrothed.

Natasha wore a floor-length sleeveless ivory lace gown, with a v-neckline that was tasteful and evoked imagery of old Hollywood glamour. She wore her curls in a delicate updo, with small diamond chandelier earrings and a matching necklace that were Tony's bridal gifts to her. Tony wore a black tuxedo with a dark red shirt beneath it. Their wedding colors were black and red. Her bouquet was small, full of fragrant blood red roses.

They were married on Catalina Island, a beautiful if not quite conventional wedding. Rhodey was the best man, Sharon the maid of honor, and Steve had the privilege of escorting Natasha to Tony. There was no priest, because religion did not have much of a place with either of them.

When the justice of the peace announced them as Mr. and Mrs. Stark, Tony grinned so broadly that Natasha felt an answering, lovely ache in her chest and throat. She did not have time to ponder it because he slid his hand behind her neck gently, and bent her back into a deep kiss. As she kissed him eagerly, she heard cheering that was – no doubt at all – led by the two boisterous Asgardians.

"Ready to get the party started, Mrs. Stark?" Tony asked, once the kiss had ended and he had brought her upright again.

"I've _been_ waiting, Mr. Stark," she answered with a laugh, taking his arm and leading the way with him to the reception hall.

This wasn't an end, after all.

It was a beginning.


	24. Epilogue

_10 years later…_

The waiter, new and somewhat inexperienced, had become flustered immediately among being told that he would be waiting on two VIPs. Only one of them had shown up so far, and he approached the private table out on the balcony with a mixture of awe and trepidation. The beautiful woman sat there, dark red curls loose past her shoulders and the strapless black dress leaving little to the imagination. He might have been tempted to sneak a peek at her breasts, except the deadly look in her cold green eyes gave him pause.

There was also the fact that this was _the_ Natasha Stark, and everyone knew that she could kill you with one hand, in high heels and a dress without breaking a sweat or smudging her makeup. They didn't call her the most dangerous woman in the world for nothing.

"Can I get you anything, Mrs. Stark?" He was proud that he managed to speak steadily, and tried to resist the urge to wipe his sweating palms on his pants. The pictures of her really didn't do her seductive beauty justice.

Natasha glanced up at the eager beaver standing before her. Her gaze flicked to his nametag – Jason – and she shook her head. "No, thank you." On the table, next to the still neatly wrapped silverware, was a sleek Starkphone that she was idly toying with as she waited. She noticed his curious look and smiled faintly.

This model was one Tony had recently designed and if the public was lucky, they might get a version of it. Or they may not; he was always designing things but some of those inventions stayed within the family. She couldn't complain, though. As likely as he was to walk off in mid-sentence to go down to work in the lab when an idea struck him, he always made time for them.

Jason nodded politely and was about to say something but then he looked past her, over her head, his eyes getting bigger.

She wondered briefly what he saw but then she heard an all-too familiar whooshing sound and smiled when there was a noisy metallic thud behind her.

"You're late," she informed her husband without turning around.

"I know," he responded, his voice distorted by the helmet. It was followed by the whirring sound as his suit began to disassemble off of him. "I'm sorry, baby. I lost track of time in the lab at HQ with Bruce until Jarvis starting yelling at me."

"Jarvis never yells." Natasha was amused by his exaggeration. She felt a warm hand on her bare upper back and she sighed in pleasure at his touch, turning her head to look up at him.

Tony, impeccably dressed as always in a black suit and burgundy shirt, looked slightly sheepish. She let him squirm for a few moments longer, letting him wonder if she was displeased with him, and then she smiled.

"And neither do I. It's all right. I'm just glad you're here."

Tony leaned down to kiss her. "Wouldn't miss my anniversary dinner, Tash." He glanced at the kid that was still gawking at them. "You can get the champagne now."

"Right away, sir." Jason turned and walked quickly inside.

"I think he wanted to ask for your autograph," Natasha teased him as Tony took his seat across from her.

"No, I think he wanted to look at your boobs. Can't say I blame them. They're even bigger now than they were before you had the kids."

"Tony!" She laughed, shaking her head at him.

"What?" He looked at her innocently. "I'm merely making an objective observation, my dear."

"How very scientific of you."

"I try." He grinned.

Jason brought back the champagne, carefully opening it up and pouring each a glass. They placed their orders and Tony's expression made it clear that he wanted Jason to scram so he could enjoy privacy with his wife.

"Do you think Happy will be all right looking after the kids?" Natasha asked, her graceful fingers stroking the stem of the glass.

"Sure. Pepper is one speed dial away for backup. What's the worst that can happen?"

Natasha raised her eyebrows at him. "Ah, how soon we forget the incident with the homemade blender."

"That was… unfortunate," he conceded. "But that's why it helps to have a mutant we can call up to use her telekinesis. The Drakes are great sports about helping out…"

"Yes, Steve and I made a good choice in recruiting Eliza despite her… questionable parentage." She smirked and laughed. "That damn blender exploding food everywhere. Anya is _just_ like you. God, I don't even want to think about how bad she would be if she didn't have Katya around."

He smiled fondly, picturing their 6-year-old twin girls. They were tiny and beautiful, with dark red hair and big brown eyes. When he and Natasha had first married, she hadn't been certain if she'd wanted to have children. He hadn't felt strongly about it either way, happy just to have Natasha, but when the twins had been born premature he'd been sick with worry for them – and for her. His girls had become his world, and so had his son when he was born two years ago. Misha had dark hair and blue-green eyes, his physical features favoring Tony and he had an odd sense of pride about that. He knew that genetics were a roll of the dice but he still was pleased his daughters resembled their mother and his son resembled him. It was unlikely that they would have another child, and he treasured his family.

"Did Misha cry when you left?" he asked.

"No. He was busy putting together whatever you two were last working on. He just asked if we'd be back tonight and I told him yes. I told Happy they could all watch Despicable Me after dinner and not to let Anya con him into staying up later."

Tony nodded. If one went out on an assignment, the other one would stay home with the children. It was easy enough to arrange that with Steve being not only the Avengers leader but also a family friend, and Tony being the current director of S.H.I.E.L.D. while Fury took care of personal matters.

"You're really good with Misha…. With all the kids," she commented.

He looked down at the tablecloth, feeling unusually vulnerable. "I want them to know that I love them. To never doubt it... the way I did. I found out my father loved me but much, much too late. I thought he was cold and that his work mattered more than I did. Work is… I need it, I need to keep my mind and my hands busy but I need you and the kids more. I need them to understand that they are the most important things to me, you and them."

"They know," she said softly. "They love you so much, Tony. You've always been a big part of their lives. To stay home with them and allow me to go back to work…"

He smiled at her. "Hey, I loved doing that with the girls. It was easy enough to be a stay at home father to them. And Maks."

She laughed at the mention of their Russian Blue cat that had been a gift from him to her their first Christmas as a married couple. Trust Tony to find a cat that was highly intelligent and could be trained. Somehow Maks always ended up in the bedroom, sleeping atop Tony's head on the pillow but Tony never seemed to mind.

"And it's the same with Misha. Well, it's easier because there's only one of him. He's not as demanding as Anya is. Katya is so easygoing, it's hard to believe they're identical twins sometimes."

"Like I said. Anya's _just_ like you." Natasha smirked.

"I sure hope not. In some aspects…"

"Like the naked youtube videos?" she asked. "Or the other embarrassing things there's photographic and/or audio and video evidence of you doing?"

Tony cringed. He wasn't ashamed and still thought the things he'd done were funny or worthwhile, but the thought of his daughters doing the same filled him with unspeakable horror.

"They're my babies," he groaned. "Can't they just _stay_ babies?"

She smiled, but there was a wistful look in her eyes. "If only they could, hm? Now we sound old."

"We are old."

"Speak for yourself, sugar daddy."

Tony burst out laughing. It was a running joke between them that he was the sugar daddy and she was the trophy wife, because of their age difference, his wealth, and her beauty. He poured them each more champagne and lifted his glass in a toast.

"To our 10th anniversary, and to you, Tash, for having put up with me all these years."

She clinked her glass against his. "To 10 happy years together. I love you, Tony."

"I love you, too." He smiled, sipping at his glass.

Dinner passed comfortably, and they both declined dessert in order to get back to their family. Happy met them at the door, looking proud of himself.

"Nothing exploded or broke this time!" he reported.

Tony laughed. "Glad to hear that. Thanks for watching them."

"No problem, Tony. Have a good night. And happy anniversary!"

"Thank you, Happy. Goodnight!" Natasha called after him.

Tony went upstairs with his wife, going first into the nursery. Their son was sleeping in his toddler bed, one arm wrapped around an Iron Man plushie. Misha's little mouth was slightly open and he let out tiny snores. Natasha grinned and mouthed something to Tony, who made hand gestures adamantly denying that he snored. They each kissed him, careful not to awaken him, and then went next door to the room the twins shared.

The girls had their own beds but more often than not, ended up in one bed cuddled up against each other. Anya had a lavender bunny plushie and Katya had a matching pink one. Katya slept on when her parents kissed her, but Anya's dark eyes fluttered open when she felt them kissing her forehead.

"Mommy? Daddy?" she asked sleepily.

"Yeah, princess," Tony whispered to her tenderly. "It's just us. Go back to sleep, don't want to wake your sister."

She gave him a drowsy smile. "Love you, Daddy," she said, closing her eyes and falling back to sleep.

Tony felt his heart ache with love for her, for all of his children. He looked up at Natasha, his emotions mirrored in her eyes. He cradled Natasha's face in his hands and kissed her gently, pulling her into his arms and eventually leading her to the master bedroom.

Ten years, three kids, countless memories, and many more to come – he had finally become a man who truly did have everything.


End file.
